Reversed
by AcademicGirl
Summary: Usually, the Selection is a chance for thirty-five girls to become the princess of Illéa. However, the king and queen have a daughter that's an only child: Princess America. She's unsure about the men. Some are there for her while others are there for the throne. Will America be able to handle the pressure of eliminating and choosing the right one, for her and her country?
1. Chapter 1

**So I was struck with a concept that has been used many times. Please review your thoughts on this.**

**Note: This is from my AU One-Shots but I decided to make it its own story.**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**

The candidates for the Selection are revealed tonight. I am standing backstage with my foot tapping perpetually. _It won't be so bad_, they said. _This is how you'll meet your future husband_, they said. Words are only words. Only so many are said and meant. Too many are believed.

I wipe my palms on my dress and check the mirror for the hundredth time. The blue ruffles overlap each other and conceal my legs. My red hair stands out against the pale fabric.

"Honey, are you okay?" Mom says.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. I'm so absolutely ready to see the name of my future husband. Did I forget to mention? I don't know who it will be!" I nearly yell, forgetting that there are other people here. I get odd stares or concerned ones. No one likes a princess in distress.

Mom rolls her eyes. She knows I can get too dramatic sometimes. "Sweetie, relax. Your father was able to do it."

"Yeah, but he's _Dad._ Also the king of Illéa."

Mom puts a soft hand on my face. "And you are the princess of Illéa. You'll be spectacular."

I gulp and nod. Dad soon shows up, and he straightens his tie. "How do I look, dear?" he asks Mom.

She smiles kindly. "Handsome, as always."

Will I have a husband that compliments me?

"Kitten," Dad says, finally addressing me. "How are you doing?"

"Splendidly, Dad. Just dandy."

"Sarcasm does not fit a princess," Mom chastises. I swear, she is more uptight than Silvia.

"Ten seconds," someone calls. I nod and the three of us walk to our seats. My dad gives me a hug before sitting down.

"Just remember to smile," he says with a kind smile of his own. I do as he says.

The anthem plays. I always thought our anthem was beautiful and empowering. I wonder how the guys watching are at home. Are they as nervous as I? It seems ridiculous that they would be anxious. I'd expect them to be excited or ecstatic. Something to that effect. They're not the one that has to choose and eliminate. My decision affects the whole country, as well as myself.

The announcements become an onslaught of words that threaten to drown my mind. Am I actually trembling? I am so ready for this to be over.

Finally, the Master of Events comes up and introduces Gavril Fadaye. He walks straight to us.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," he says. I almost ignore the fact he is talking to Dad.

"Gavril, it's always a pleasure." Dad is filled to the brim with happiness and excitement.

"Looking forward to the announcement?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure the men will be amazing."

"So you know who they are already?" Gavril exclaims.

"No, not yet at least. The advisers finished picking the lot of them last night by lottery." The Selection is a lottery. Picking the men by their applications is like cheating. I really want this to be a surprise, as much as I hate the part of not knowing.

"Ah well," Gavril continues with a smile. "I'm sure the princess would love at least one of them. Right, your highness?"

It takes me a while to gather a coherent thought. I smile. "Yes, Gavril. I'm confident in this process, seeing as how my father managed to find a beautiful woman." I smile to my mother, and she holds my hand.

"Yes, she truly is lovely," Gavril says, nodding. "Queen Magda, I know that the situations are reversed and that men are applying instead of women, but do you have any advice for them?"

Mom smiles at the camera. "Be yourself. Don't do anything that isn't you. And just have fun with this."

"Wise words, my queen, wise words. And with that, let us reveal the thirty-five young men chosen for the Selection. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in congratulating the following Gentlemen of Illéa!"

I look at the monitor with the pictures of the guys, and I realize I'm gripping the skirts of my dress like I'm trying to strangle it. I take a deep breath and Gavril finally starts.

"Sir Carter Woodwork of Hansport, Two." A picture of a bulky blond guy appears. He looks light-hearted and very happy. I realize then that the cameras are panned toward me for my reaction so I smile.

"Sir Aspen Leger of Carolina, Six." A skinny young man with black hair and green eyes strikes me. He certainly is handsome. Until the next three men are announced, I realize I raised my eyebrows when Aspen Leger appeared on the screen. Shoot. I didn't want to look like I already have favorites based on how they look.

"Sir Maxon Schreave of Angeles, Two." A man with honey blond hair and brown eyes makes me smile genuinely this time. He looks...nice.

"Sir Quintin Hadlow of Dakota, Four." He has blond hair as well, but fairer than Maxon's. And he has blue eyes, making him look a little Scandinavian.

Are there any ugly guys in this competition?

It's like my mental question is answered when a guy with zits all over his face appears. He kind of has crooked teeth and a big nose. I hate judging these men by appearance, but for now that's all I have.

I watch closely to the remaining men and memorize all of their names. As much as I hate to say it, these are my options. If I don't pick from them, I'll be left with a prince from who knows where. And I wouldn't be able to rule my own country.

They all look really kind, but I'm sure that's just the picture. Some look smug and pretentious and I know they're the ones who are here for the crown.

Now it's my job to discern which ones have the right motives.


	2. Chapter 2

_Maxon's POV_

"Stand tall, Maxon," my father says, pacing the room as we await more of the palace officials. We have already seen some of them—a woman who asked me if everything in my application was true and a palace guard who ran over some of the security measures. I had my fittings yesterday and Father made quite a scene. As always.

The man, who had a goatee, informed us that the palace would be supplying all of the clothes I would wear.

My father tried to object and ask if the palace had "the finest silks" or whatever crap he had to say but the man held up his hand. "I assure you, Mr. Schreave, that your son will be wearing the best fabrics in all of Illéa." It takes everything in me not to laugh, or at least chuckle. He was by far my favorite.

My mom reads her book and daintily sips her tea while Father walks back and forth with his oncoming set of rules. He might as well have made the rules for the Selection.

"When you meet the royal family, Maxon, don't forgot to bow," Mom helpfully suggests.

"But you must act superior as if you are already at their level—"

"But do not forget to call them by their proper titles. You are only a Two, after all."

They shoot rules back and forth as if they're firing volleys. Who it's aimed to I'm not so sure.

"Act your best, if not a little more proper," Father says sharply, noting as if my manners are somewhat lacking in refinement.

"Honey, just act like yourself." Mom stands and puts a warm hand on my shoulder.

"I don't know whom I should listen to," I grumble.

"Do not end your sentences with a preposition," Father says with narrowed eyes.

He's being a little ridiculous. Really? My grammar? I'm about to argue about the state of my speech, but I'm cut off by the doorbell.

"Eliza, go get it," Father yells.

Our head maid scuttles to the door and opens it to a woman. She's wearing a bright, perky smile it's almost blinding.

"Oh, how lovely," Mom says, rushing to the door while I follow close behind. "Welcome," she says, remembering to curtsy. I bow and Mom says, "Please. Come in."

She nods, still with her sunny smile on, but I can tell it's to help me keep my anxiety down. She must have been through this with the other men already.

"Alright, Sir Maxon," the lady says, her tone snappy and businesslike. "I am Jeanette. We spoke on the phone."

I bow, and I take her hand and kiss the back of it, like Father had taught (and ordered) me to do. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Jeanette looks a little flustered at first, but she regains her composure. "Do you have any children in the house?" she asks as she enters.

I nod. "I have a little sister and a little brother but—"

"Are they within earshot?" she asks, starting to move toward our living room.

"I don't think so," Mom says quickly. "Eliza, do you know where the children are?"

She comes from behind the wall. I swear, that woman is a teleporter. "Master Gerad's on the fourth floor and Madam May is at the mall with her friends."

"Very well then," Mom says. Father joins us on the lounge while Jeanette takes a seat on the one across from us. She lays her numerous papers as Eliza and Marilyn run in with trays of tea and cakes.

"I apologize for being so cautious," Jeanette says as she takes a sip of her tea.

"If there is anything important to hear, then we shall hear it," Father says, daring to stare her down as if simply looking at her will coax out the words.

She nods primly. "Yes, well, this might be a little savage wording, but as of last Friday, you are now considered property of Illéa. You must not abuse your body, or anyone else's for that matter."

"That will not be a problem. Right, Maxon?" Father says.

I hate to be called "property" seeing as I'm a human being that does not like being objectified, but I nod anyway. She hesitates as she says the next thing. "This might be a delicate subject, but have you ever had intercourse, and if so, ever impregnated a woman?"

Mom chokes on her tea, and I pat her on the back. Okay, I guess I have lost all respect for this woman. Goodness. And with both my parents in the room! "Mom, are you okay?" I ask.

"Sir, please answer the question," Jeanette prods. "If you are found to be lying—"

"I assure you," I say, cutting her off as I take my hand from Mom's back, "that I my virginity is intact."

"We have been waiting for the Selection," my father interjects. "We wouldn't waste that on a woman not nearly as important as the princess."

"Sir, with all my respect and honesty, it is not you decisions that discern whether he has broken the law or not."

"He was with one woman named Daphne, but she was a waste of time."

It's like I'm not even in the room. Plus, my father doesn't know Daphne very well. It's so rude that he'd disparage her like that.

I clear my throat. "Is that all?" I ask, trying to move on from the question.

"I must go over some rules with you."

Oh joy. More rules.

"You cannot leave the palace of your own accord. You have to be dismissed by the princess herself. The king and queen cannot force you out. They can tell the princess they do not approve of you, but she shall make every decision on who stays and who goes.

"There is no definite time for the span of the Selection. It can be over in days or prolong into years."

"Years?" Father repeats. It seems like an unwise choice for the princess to keep men for _that_ long.

"It's not an issue at all. The princess is a very quick and decisive person, so it will most likely last for months at the most. But if she needs time to make her decision, you will be required to stay for as long as the princess needs or wants."

My face remains stoic and straight as Jeanette continues.

"You do not arrange your dates with the princess. She will seek you out for one-on-one company assuming she wants it. If you are in a larger social setting and she is present, that is different. But you do not go to her without a proper invitation." What's a proper invitation? A letter on a silver platter?

"While no one expects you to get along with the other thirty-four contestants, you are not to fight with them or sabotage them. If you are found laying hands on another contestant, causing him stress, stealing from him, offending him in any way or doing anything that might diminish his personal relationship with the princess, it is in her hands whether or not to dismiss you on the spot.

"Your only romantic relationship will be with Princess America. If you are found writing love notes to someone or are caught in a relationship with another person in or out of the palace, that is considered treason and is punishable by death."

I nod. Who would I write to anyway? Both my parents are too busy, May is always out partying or shopping, Gerad is always studying, my older brother is a jackass, and my older sister just got married and is expecting their first child. Eliza might be the only one who'd care enough to write me a letter in the first place! And anyway, Daphne won't be writing me any love letters soon. No, especially not after _that _night.

"If you are found breaking any of Illéa's written laws, you will receive the punishment tied to that offense. Your status as one of the Selected does not put you above the law.

"You must not wear any clothes or eat any food that is not specifically provided for you by the palace. This is a security issue and will be strictly enforced.

"On Fridays you will be present for all _Capital Report_ broadcasts. On occasion, but always with warning, there will be cameras or photographers in the palace, and you will be courteous and allow them to see your lifestyle with the princess.

"For each week you stay at the palace, your family will be compensated. I will give you your first check before I leave. Should you make it to the top ten, you will be considered an Elite. Once you reach that status, you will be required to learn about the particular inner workings of the life and obligations you would have as a prince. You are not permitted to seek out such details before that time. And finally, if you are chosen by the princess, you and your family will be elevated to Ones.

"Is that understood?"

"Yes," the three of us chorus.

Jeanette smiles. "Good." She pulls out an envelope and lays it on the table. She stands and straightens her skirt. and I stand to walk her out the door.

"Good luck, Sir Maxon," she says.

I smile. "Thank you."

"Oh, and there's one more thing." She leans in a little closer. "This isn't an official rule, but you don't turn down the princess. If Princess America wants a date, a kiss, more than a kiss, don't turn her down. She can get a little feisty, but you didn't hear that from me."

"Is that what you tell the others?" I blurt. Stupid. Imagine what Father would say.

Jeanette nods. "I really am sorry it has to be this way."

I wave a hand. "It's not a problem. I'll be sure to comply."

She nods. "I'll be on my way then."

I watch her enter the black car and return inside.

"What is the meaning of this?!" I hear Father yell.

I rush to the living room. "What is it?" I ask urgently.

"This is all we get for this competition?!" he says, waving the check around as if he's trying to swat a fly. "This is an outrage!"

"Clarkson, relax," my mom says, putting a hand on his shoulder. "This is more than enough. When I was a Four, this money would have fed me for months, maybe even years."

"Amberly, this is not enough. I demand that we ask for more."

I leave the living room, going up the stairs by two. I go to the fourth floor, and Gerad is sprawled on the couch, watching television. "Mom and Dad fighting again?" he asks, his eyes not once leaving the screen.

I nod and drop to the ground. "Yep."

"Is Dad being irrational again?"

"Yep."

"Same old, same old, huh?"

"Yep."

"Is that why you joined the Selection?" he asks, finally turning to look at me. "To escape this hellhole?"

I frown and push Gerad a little on the shoulder. He's twelve and he curses like a sailor. He rolls his eyes at me.

I sigh. "I just want a chance to escape his overpowering demeanor."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Of course he does. All of us siblings do. When someone does one thing wrong, we all get whipped. That's why my brother left. You can't really buy your way up anymore when you're a Two, but he just left. He's traveling all over Illéa, doing whatever and whomever he wants. Like I said, jackass.

May arrives home a few minutes later and joins us upstairs. She's wearing a short skirt and a very revealing shirt and heels that would make me fall.

"Hey, Max?" Gerad says.

"Yes?"

"How do girls walk in heels?" He laughs and May scowls at us.

I laugh too. "Beats me."

Eliza brings up our dinner and we eat in front of the television. I have no idea how I would have lived without my siblings.

* * *

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews!**

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**Love ya!- AcademicGirl **


	3. Chapter 3

_Aspen's POV_

Our small house has never been so crowded. I mean, it's stuffed to the brim already with me, Mom, Beckner, Celia, Kamber, Reed, Jemmy, and Ivy, but with all the Selection officials, this house is bursting at the seams.

It amazes me how they work—they verify that everything in my application is true, the buff palace guard surveys our house, a man with a goatee fits me for suits that I would never be able to afford in any lifetime, and today, we are simply signing some documents.

Not too bad, right?

A lady with ridiculous frosted hair sits on the couch while I settle on the ground. There is only room for so many. She gives me vitamins, since I am a Six, the lowest caste in Illéa. The lowest used to be Eights, then Sevens, but King Shalom was able to destroy those and there are no longer people living on the streets. Mom says he's the best king Illéa has ever seen. And I agree.

The lady—whom I am now calling Frosty—says that I'm now considered "property" of Illéa. I have to take care of my body, which might be more difficult than one would think. I have lifted heavy boxes and furniture for wealthy people, scrubbed the floors with nothing but a toothbrush and my bare hands, and still have barely anything to eat. I guess I could be considered lean, but I'm on the verge of scrawny and malnourished.

Frosty asks one disturbing thing, though, after asking my siblings to leave: Have I ever had intercourse, and if so, ever impregnated a woman.

My mom's eyes nearly pop out of her head. "Of course not!" she says, nearly yelling. "Aspen has never even had a girlfriend!"

"In all due respect and honesty—" she starts, but I cut her off.

"In all due respect and honesty, I have no time to have a girlfriend. And I am a Six; no one would be willing to marry into the lowest caste."

"She could be a Six herself," Frosty argues. "And you're not too hard on the eyes either," she mutters.

I uncomfortably ruffle my hair. "Is that it?" I ask, trying to move on from the subject.

She basically explains that I can't set my own times with the princess, can't dismiss myself from the palace, can't harass any of the other candidates, can't have a relationship with anyone other than the princess, can't, can't can't.

She finally ends her rant, gives us the check that makes Mom gasp and tear up, and stands to leave. I follow her to walk her out. "And one more thing," Frosty says. "You cannot deny the princess anything—gifts, dates, kisses, more than kisses—"

"Excuse me?" I say, cutting her off. "Is this an actual rule?"

"It's not official, but it would be unwise to ignore it. You do want to win right?"

Not really. I don't want to be the prince. I don't want to be the husband of some rich, snobby girl. I signed up for my mom, my family. I can hardly support them by myself. The longer I stay, the more my family has, right?

But I nod anyway.

"Very well. Good day, Sir Aspen." Frosty enters the shiny black car and becomes a speck of black.

So I guess that's my strategy. I'll just have to stay there and outlast the other thirty-four assholes.

* * *

_America's POV_

"Are you ready to meet them, your highness?" Anne, my head maid, asks, as she brushes my red hair.

I shrug. She raises her eyebrow. I sigh and concede. Anne knows me too well. "Okay, yeah, of course I am. I mean, literally, the only man I've ever had a real conversation with was with my father."

"How about that prince from Spain?" Lucy, my other maid, pipes up. "He seemed nice."

I wrinkle my nose. "Nah, too arrogant. Friendly, but cocky."

"And plus," Mary, my third maid, adds, "he's engaged to Princess Daphne."

"Oh, that's right!" I say. "I forgot."

Daphne is the princess of France and one of my dearest friends. She and I have been best friends since we were children.

"Is Princess Nicoletta betrothed to anyone yet?" Anne asks, pinning up my hair.

Ah, Nicoletta, my other best friend. The princess of Italy and I struck up an odd and unexpected friendship, but once we got to know each other, we were actually quite similar. Italy and France have been our allies ever since the throne went to my father. Daphne and Nicoletta have been my closest friends since I was born. It all works out.

Whenever it's one of our birthdays, the remaining two fly to her country and celebrate. Last I saw them was my nineteenth birthday two weeks ago. We picked up like we had seen each other every single day of our lives. It's always like that.

I shake my head, and Anne frustratingly straightens my head while holding my hair. "Sit still. Er, your highness," she quickly adds.

I laugh and so do Mary and Lucy. "Anne, what did I say about that title? You make me sound like the queen, and I am _nothing _like my mother."

That gets a laugh out of all them. "But miss, you will be queen one day," Mary says. "We might as well start now."

A peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach rises to my throat. I've always been fretful about becoming queen. But now, the distress seemed more real and more imminent than ever.

"I don't think I'll be a very good queen," I mumble.

"Oh, of course you will!" Lucy says, her voice so high it's nearly a shriek. "America—"

"_Princess_!" Anne interrupts.

"—you are the most compassionate royal I have ever served," Lucy says, ignoring Anne's comment. "You care for the people, and you treat the citizens well."

I smile. "Thank you."

"There. All ready." Anne releases my hair and she truly has done a spectacular job. As always.

Mary and Lucy reveal my dress—a light blue ball gown with capped sleeves. My maids really are the best.

I walk downstairs, my heels that I've worn so many times clicking on the marble. I enter our dining room, ready to enjoy my last quiet dinner.

* * *

**Well, well, well. I guess I'll be doing not one, not two, but THREE POVs. The things I do for you guys :P But I still love you. **

**If you want to turn in a character, I guess it's not too late to do that. Sorry about the late notice, but uh, yeah, you can do that if you want. You can PM me, review your character, whatever floats your boat. :)**

**martinezsami11- I POSTED "THE END" SO YOU CAN START READING THAT NOW THANKS FOR REVIEWING AND I HOPE YOU CONTINUE READING AND FINDING IT FUN TO READ**

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**ilona18- Maxon is a Two because his father is a very important man. Maxon alone would be a Five, but due to his family history, he's a Two. Thank you so much for the compliments (and the two reviews)!**

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**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	4. Chapter 4

_Maxon's POV_

The blinding lights from the photographers' cameras would almost be unbearable had my family not been hunted down at our every outing. My father is a politician, and my mother is a model. It had seemed unlikely, considering she was a former Four, but she couldn't find any other job. She hated politics, and so a photographer found her and she's the world-renowned model. She deserves it after all; she really is beautiful and poised. The best part is she models for fundraisers and also for clothing lines across Illéa.

I work at some of her photo shoots when I get the chance. I love being behind the camera and changing angles so the light hits the subject just perfectly. Of course, that's assuming we don't use the computer software to enhance the photos. The software is literally the best thing invented, second to cameras, of course. Some genius invented it a few years ago after King Shalom permitted computers to every household once more. However, the computers came with their own history class. I find it fascinating, though, but my friends at private school most certainly did not.

I hop into the limo after walking and smiling on the short runway and look at the other men, who have just arrived from the airport. I live in Angeles already, so it was quite a short drive to where we were all meeting. I turn to the tall, skinny man to my left. I hold out my hand. "Hello, I'm Maxon Schreave."

He takes it and shakes it loosely. Father wouldn't approve. Then again, he isn't here. "The name's Nathaniel Lukyanova. I'm a Four from Bankston. And you?"

"I'm a Two from Angeles."

"Ah, so you're a city boy?"

"Perhaps."

I can already tell this guy's not the most intellectual. Well, maybe that's a little harsh. He just seems very...lost.

I turn to the guy at my right instead. He looks vaguely familiar. "I'm Maxon Schreave," I say.

"Are you that politician Schreave's son?" he says, frowning at me.

I nod. "Yes?"

He suddenly brightens, his odd golden eyes illuminating like a firefly. "I'm Ross Kingsley from Sumner. I thought you looked familiar. My father's Nicholas Kingsley. Have you heard of him?"

I smile. "Oh, yes. I was there for that ball in last December."

"The Winter Wonderland one?" Ross shakes his head with a smile. "Everyone was so formal and stiff."

I put a hand to my chest. "Thank goodness. I thought I was the only one."

We finally arrive at the palace, the high stucco walls looming overhead like a behemoth. Powerful and enigmatic at the same time.

"I wonder what could be behind those walls," Ross mutters.

"A beautiful princess, duh," the man across from me says. I turn to him and he holds out his hand. "Grayson Summers, a tiny Three from tiny Zuni."

I smile to be polite. "Oh, come on. I'm sure you're not _that _tiny."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "I'm five foot, four," he deadpans.

He, Ross, and I laugh, leaving Nathaniel more oblivious than before.

The limousine finally stops in front of the main entrance, guards flanking the giant double doors. We're quickly ushered inside and have a quick tour. It's fascinating. All of these beautiful paintings and pictures hang up at regular intervals, and the lush gardens outside make me wish I had my camera right this instant. Fortunately, it's tucked away in my suitcase. I'll take pictures when I have time.

We're finally ushered to the Men's Parlor. No women allowed inside unless we let them. Stylists flock us like birds and they—how do I put this?—beautify me, so to speak. They shave my facial hair, gel the hair on my head, put some musky cologne on me, and send me off to wardrobe. They hand me a tailored suit with a rose boutonniere on the lapel. Angeles is famous for their roses, so it became our province flower.

I walk to the Men's Parlor and sit on a quite comfortable sofa and take a moment to observe my other competition. It's not the least bit difficult to pick out the men from the upper castes and the ones from below. There's a guy fidgeting with his gelled hair and straightening his suit. There's another who is sitting stock straight.

Another candidate sits next to me and mutters, "This is crazy, right?"

I nod. "You're telling me." I face him, and I'm met with green eyes. "I'm Maxon Schreave." I hold out my hand. The man looks comfortable in his suit, and his hair looks as if it's styled everyday, so I naturally assume he's at least a Three.

"I'm Aspen Leger." He shakes my hand firmly, and his lily boutonniere catches my eye.

"What province are you from?" I ask.

"Carolina. And you?"

"Angeles."

"Ah, a city boy."

I grin. "Why does everyone assume that?"

Aspen smiles as well, a little more at ease than a while ago. "It's a natural assumption to be made, considering you are a wealthy Two and the son of a politician."

"Well, not all assumptions are true. However, I'm assuming you're a Three and that assumption is correct."

He shakes his head. "Not at all. I'm a Six."

I'm taken aback. "Really?"

He nods, looking a little uneasy now. "Hey, no need to be shocked. I feel like once I tell people my caste, they immediately judge me."

I pat his back. "Man, we're in the same boat right now. As of this moment, we're all equals in this competition."

"Yeah, sure."

Well, that didn't go quite as planned. Was it something I said?

A lady—who introduces herself as Silvia—enters the room, announcing that we will be having dinner tonight and that we will meet the princess tomorrow during breakfast. It seems to spur everyone into high gear. It's a little more incentive for the lower caste-men, who would be ready to indulge in the palace food.

I don't know if I'm ready to meet the ready. It might be a little difficult to keep the food down as my nerves wash over me.

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

The food is made in Heaven. I'm convinced. Mom's a pretty good cook, but damn, this stuff seems like it rained from the blessed sky. I can see the other lower caste-men trying to maintain proper etiquette. I mean, the king and queen are literally sitting right there. Some guys, though, completely lose themselves and eat the roast chicken with their hands. I'm probably the lowest caste here (even though I'm technically a Three now) and even I have enough incitement to keep me holding onto my really shiny silverware.

I think about my competition already. Maxon doesn't look too bad, but he could be pegged as a little self-absorbed, if you ask me. The guys I met on the plane ride weren't too awful either. Quintin from Dakota cracked a few jokes on the plane. There's also quiet and angsty Brody. His name should be broody. It seems more fiiting. Carter is nice. Actually, he might be my favorite guy here.

Then there's Clancy Newman. Arrogance and pride dripped off that egotistic jackass. "Scrawny little Six doesn't have a chance," he whispered to Quintin. I could hear him well enough.

This might be harder than I thought. And I'm not even planning on fighting for this woman! It's ridiculous. So I indulge in the food and hardly hear the king and queen's announcement and we're sent off to our rooms.

I have a corner room with Preston Terrier, Nathaniel Lukyanova, and Cory Braxton surrounding me. I walk in and nearly jump when there are three ladies dusting my room.

"Oh, Sir Aspen!" they all say, rushing to greet me. They curtsy and I smile. "Ladies, there's no need for that."

"Oh, but yes there is, Sir Aspen!" says the girl with brown hair. "We are only Sixes and you are a Three and a Selection candidate."

"I was a born a Six," I say. "There really is no need."

"Let us introduce ourselves," a petite girl says. "I'm Valerie."

The girl with brown hair, who looks about my age, says, "My name is Margaret, but I usually go by Maggie."

The youngest, who reminds me a little of Celia with her black hair, says with a quiet voice, "I'm Jezebel, but people call me Jessie."

"Well, it's great to meet you ladies," I say, offering a smile.

"We've already prepared your bath, Sir," Maggie says, blushing a bit.

"Thank you," I reply. "I think I can manage." I've never taken a real bath before. I don't think the washtub when I was five counts. They have a million soaps and the water is so warm. This just keeps getting better and better.

I get out when my skin gets wrinkled, and I resemble a prune. I realize that I don't have clothes. So I grab the soft, white towel and wrap it around my waist. "Excuse me, but where do I get my clothes?" I ask, trying not to sound rude.

The maids blush and it was probably foolish of me to go out half naked. I'm a little tired and I kinda just want to collapse in bed right now. It looks so soft and it's huge. It's bigger than the size of every bed in my house combined. Heck, it would still be bigger even if I added my couch to the equation.

Valerie leads me to my closet, endless hangers of suits and ties. I didn't know I could appreciate clothes this much. "Here they are, Sir," she says, pointing to a drawer of boxers, and t-shirts.

"Excellent, ladies," I say. "You can go to bed now."

"But, Sir," Maggie argues. "You need at least one of us to keep watch."

"It's for security measures," Jessie says silently.

I run a hand through my hair. "All right. You can decide among yourselves who wants to stay."

I go back to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth, and find Valerie sitting on the arm chair. "So you're the unfortunate one who drew the short straw, huh?" I try to come off as sarcastic, but to be honest, I don't think anyone would argue to babysit a twenty-one year old.

"No, Sir, we were actually arguing who got to stay here." Valerie claps a hand over her mouth. "Sir, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Valerie, it's alright. Now, go get some rest."

I turn off the light and settle in the warm, comfortable bed. I could definitely get used to this.

* * *

**I'll answer reviews tomorrow. So sorry. I'm just quite exhausted. But thank you to each and every one of you! So much. My inbox blew up with your reviews, and I'm so happy you guys are enjoying it :)**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	5. Chapter 5

**Whoops! Forgot to put this in the first chapter.**

**Disclaimer: All right of the Selection Trilogy belong to Kiera Cass. I do not own anything except for my own characters.**

_America's POV_

I wake up, sunlight streaming in from my open balcony doors. "Good morning, America!" Lucy squeals.

I smile, despite the fact I just want to go back to sleep to suppress my bundle of nerves. I suddenly sit up quickly. "You guys," I deadpan. "I'm meeting the guys. TODAY!"

My maids laugh and Anne takes me by the hand. "All the more reason you should get up now." I groan and I wash my face and brush my teeth. Wouldn't want guys to go running all the way to New Asia just to evade my bad breath. Anne starts to work on my hair. She puts it up in an elegant up-do with a few tendrils of hair framing my face.

Mary applies my makeup fractionally heavier than usual. She puts this silver eye shadow on me that makes my eyes look like two sapphires among onyxes. My lip gloss is a dainty pink and Mary puts a little blush.

Lucy finally pulls out my dress from a black garment bag. My jaw drops as I see it. "Oh my..." I say. "It's only breakfast!" I say, still gaping like a fish.

"I know, Miss, but it seemed more appropriate for a ball gown to meet the gentlemen," Anne explains, carefully unzipping the dress.

The gown is a blue that borders purple, almost indigo, but not quite. The sunlight makes the colors dance on the layers of the dress. There are no straps, and, as usual when I am faced with a strapless gown, I wonder how I'll be able to hold it up. The fabric cinches at the waist, and I feel like I'll look so fragile in it. But I guess that's how we've always been playing it. I wear something completely dainty and demure to hide my inner temper and fire.

"Ladies, it's beautiful," I finally say. I take off my robe so they can help me in it. I look in the mirror and I can't believe how elegant I look. "Do you think the guys will like it?" I ask as I face the mirror.

"Of course they will!" Mary gushes. "You look absolutely radiant and beautiful, your highness."

I sigh. "Your highness. I still don't like that title.

"Even if it's been nineteen years?" Lucy asks.

I smile. "Even if." I look at the clock. "Well, I guess that's my cue to go."

I start to exit the room when Anne yells, "Wait!"

She grabs the crook of my elbow and drags me back inside. "You forgot your shoes," she says, laughing.

"I'm sorry! I'm just nervous!" I say, fumbling with my heels.

"No reason to be nervous, America," Lucy says, making sure the strap is properly clasped. "You good?" she asks.

I nod. "Do I look fine?"

"You're forgetting one thing!" Lucy suddenly shrieks. She sprints to my jewelry box and pulls out diamond earrings, a treasure from my grandmother, my songbird necklace, a gift from my father, and my favorite tiara, a gift from my mother. I don't want to be perceived as stuck-up, but I treasure these presents. There is no way that I would go a day without at least one. It's my way of saying thank you when words cannot suffice.

"Okay, awesome, thanks, bye!" I rush out the door and walk slowly to the Great Room where I would get to know the guys a little more before I eliminated some of them.

The guards and maids bow to me on the way, and I greet them. I know all of their names by heart. The guards and the maids are the siblings I never had. I wave to Janie, Leilani, Nora, Marlee, Harper, Valerie, Bonnie, and to so many more. So many faces, but my mind doesn't want to connect any names. I'm so nervous, and I think I'm sweating a little. It's a good thing Anne spritzed a little perfume.

I stop in front of the doors of the Great Room. "Good morning, Princess America," the guard says.

I curtsy. "Hello, Officer Avery. How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," he replies with a wink.

I face the other guard. "Officer Tanner, always a pleasure," I say, curtsying as well.

"Princess, the pleasure is mine," he replies. "Are you nervous?"

I wave a hand. "No, not at all."

The guards laugh together at my blatant sarcasm. "You should probably stop stalling," Tanner says.

"Yeah, probably," I reply. "Wish me luck!" I say, their gloved hands on the door knobs.

"You won't need it!" Avery replies.

"Yeah, right," I mumble. They laugh before they open the giant double doors and I nearly faint at the sight. It faintly smelled of man cologne, like my dad's actually, now that I think about it.

I walk in with a smile and focus on walking. "Good morning, gentlemen," I say, projecting my voice so every ear will hear me. I join Silvia at the front of the room. There's suddenly a new energy in the air. Back and ties are straightened, suit coats are buttoned hastily, hair pushed back even though the gel will keep it in place.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," Silvia says, curtsying.

"Hello, Silvia. May I introduce myself to the gentlemen?" I ask, even though I want her to do it. The cameras are _everywhere_, directed toward the men and me. I clasp my clammy hands together to keep them from shaking.

"Certainly," she says, backing away ever so slightly.

I turn my attention to the men. I try to spot the man with zits, but I can't seem to find him. They all look handsome. _Very _handsome. "Hello, good sirs," I start. "As you already know, or at least I hope you know, I am Princess America." They share a laugh, but the tension and anxiety bleeds through the chuckles.

"I know all of you are eager to eat the delectable breakfast, as am I, but I want to start with calling you up one by one. It won't take long, I promise." I go to the man at the end of the row, and I don't even need to look at the pin that says his name. "Sir Evan, would you please come with me to those seats?"

"Of course, Princess," he replies, his voice deep and rumbling. He stands and holds out his arm to lead me to the chairs. I am highly aware of the cameras so I am careful not to fidget so much.

"So how was your first night at the palace?" I ask once we're sitting.

"It was magnificent, your highness," he says, his tone formal. "The bed was quite a difference from my floor back home."

"You slept on the floor?" I ask, nearly aghast.

Evan nods. "Yes. When my mother gave birth to my baby sister, the _sixth_ sister, might I add, we simply didn't have enough space."

"Wow," I say, amazed. "So what did you do for a living?" I ask.

"I was a musician. Nothing much, I played for a few parties, and we barely made it. But I am so glad to be here, your highness. You have no idea how blessed I am." He smiles, a genuine one, and I recognize him as the man with the pimples.

"Hey!" I say, forgetting etiquette. "Your picture for the Selection application looks nothing like you!"

He chuckles, the quiet, subdued roar making me smile. "Yes, I wanted to test something." He glances at my confused yet intrigued expression "My older sister said that the Selection was based on applications and that it wasn't by lots."

"Is that what they say?"

He nods. "So my sister, who is a quite talented artist, painted these fake zits on my face."

"Well, sir, I am delightfully surprised," I say, taking note of his deep blue eyes and dark hair. I stand, because I'm too paranoid I spent more than five minutes with Evan. I curtsy and he bows, reaching out for my hand. He presses a soft kiss on the back of it and he walks back to his seat.

I have to be honest, the next guys don't make as big of an impression to me. This one guy's so certain I'm going to fall in love with him. I really admire humility and modesty in a man, so I make sure he's the first to leave. It's not until Aspen Leger that my interest is piqued once more.

"Hello, Sir Aspen," I say. His striking green eyes seem to know everything in this world.

"Good morning, your highness," he says, with a corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile. "How was your sleep last night?"

I'm shocked. Aspen is the first to ask me something about me. "Oh, it was a little restless. I didn't know I could handle thirty-five strangers this morning."

He smiles his half-smile again. "Yeah, I can see how that would make a princess nervous."

"So how was your first night? And how was dinner last night?" I ask.

"Both were magnificent. I have a new taste for both, and I wouldn't mind more." It's a silent but every bit the implication that he wants to stay.

I lean in a little. "Is that why you're here?" I whisper. I'm suddenly questioning his motives. Is he here for me or the food?

His green eyes widen. Then he sighs, and I can practically see the lie formed and ready in his head wilting to nothing. "I wanted to provide for my family. We're Sixes and I just...I just want the best for them."

I nod, suddenly filled with compassion and empathy. I gently pat his hand. "I promise to keep you here as long as I can, if it means providing for your family."

He smiles, a genuine one that has both corners of his lips up to his eyes. "I'm not using you, your highness. I hope you don't think that."

"I slightly think that, but you'll have to make it look like you're in love with me for the cameras," I whisper.

He laughs and I stand and curtsy. He kisses the back of my hand and walks back to his seat.

Everyone in this room are here for different motives. How do I know which ones are right?

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

I'm finally called up after what seems like hours. I bow to the princess. "Your highness, you look beautiful," I say, sitting after she has.

The princess smiles, looking a little surprised. "Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself, Sir Maxon."

I smile. "It must be in the genes."

She laughs a little. "So you're Maxon Schreave. Yes, I remember you from the Winter Wonderland ball. I saw you talking to another politician's daughter, yes?"

My mind travels back to that night and I nod. "Yes, that was Daphne."

"You two looked very close," she simply notes.

I chuckle at that. "No, Daphne and I had nothing. Don't worry. I'm here with no other women from my past in my mind. I am here for you."

Princess America smiles graciously. "Thank you. That's very...refreshing."

I lean forward and whisper, "If you simply need a friend, I'm here. If you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find. However, I must say it depends on who makes you cry. If it's another man, I will beat him to a pulp."

She laughs behind her hand. "That could get you sent home, Sir."

I shrug. "As long as you're never offended again, I don't care about the consequences."

She smiles and it illuminates her beautiful face. "Thank you. That's very brave of you."

"I do what I must."

She nods and stands. "It's been a pleasure, Sir Maxon."

"The pleasure is all mine, Princess America." I take her hand and kiss the back of it. I'm not too naïve to think that she's already taken by me, but her cheeks are almost the color of her hair.

I thought Daphne was beautiful, but no. I cannot think of any other woman who is as radiant as the princess.

After the last man has walked up, Princess America stands. "Unless I have asked you to stay, Silvia will escort you to the Dining Hall."

I stand, and I'm not sure if staying is good or not. There's a good ten guys staying behind, Nathaniel being one of them. I find the Leger guy and nudge him. "Hey, do you know what's happening?"

Aspen shrugs with the same perplexed expression as the rest of us. Ross hides his mouth behind one hand and tells us what's going on. My eyes widen and Queen Magda inside the Dining Hall confirms Ross's statement.

There are now only twenty-five of us. The ten who stayed were already eliminated. This might be a fiercer competition than I thought.

* * *

_America's POV_

"Each and every one of you are handsome, brilliant men, but I just don't see a future with you. I'm so sorry, and I will always remember you." My words are short. I don't really know how to break the news to them, so short but (definitely not) sweet might be the best route. They all seem to understand, though. The guys approach me and bow cordially before leaving. No one seems particularly spiteful. Thank goodness.

I leave them and join everyone in the Dining Hall. I give Dad and my mother a kiss on the cheek before sitting down. I spot Aspen eating his food, and I can't help but try to think of what he's thinking. He catches me looking and he points to his plate and subtly gives me a thumbs up. I smile. That's all I need.

* * *

**Whew this chapter was looooong. I still hope you enjoyed it! So who do you want to win?**

**Thanks so much for the reviews :)**

**lilythemermaid- Awww bae thanks so much for the reviews! And for ever chapter! Dammit ily so much and I'm sure your version would be even better! LALOL**

**ThisGirlActuallyReads- I'm glad you like it! Thanks so much!**

**agb1700- Aw you're AMAZINGER! Thank you! Lurve ya! Hope my America POV satisfied you!**

**Book addict 112- I take your smiley face as a sign you're enjoying it, yes? Thanks for reviewing!**

**perseuseaton816- Yeah, I would have made Maxon a Five but it seemed more fitting since his dad wouldn't be an artist.**

**LovableL101- I hope you keep reading! Thanks so much!**

**martinezsami11- THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR AWESOME REVIEW AHHH**

**Kiren- I'm glad you love it! Haha I'm a chatterbox too. My mom says I have a mole/beauty mark near my mouth cuz I'm talkative :P**

**LoveMAXERICA- Yeah, definitely! I'll mention him sometime, don't worry! Thank you for reading!**

**theoneforever- Aw thank you! That means so much to me! And yes, nutcase maids are my faves :P**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- *points at you* UH HUH YOU DID IT AGAIN. O_O You reviewed! Haha that last review gave me a lot of ideas actually! Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**going for the win- Wow. The best compliment anyone could give. Wow. Thank you!**

**ilona18- Yeah, cuz Clarkson's a politician. Haha yeah I had to find a way to make the whole girl maids guy candidates work out. I hope I did! Thank you!**

**Also, there's another author, caitiac I believe, who is doing a story of Princess America's Selection as well, and I want to tell you guys that she is not stealing or copying off me. She said so herself, so if you accused her of that, I appreciate you defending me, so much, but I would really like it if you stopped. I mean, this is fanfiction. We're already technically copying someone. So, uh yeah. There's that! **

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	6. Chapter 6

_Aspen's POV_

We spend the second day doing etiquette lessons with Silvia. Fun stuff. I didn't even know there could be this many utensils for one meal. It's ridiculous. The upper-castes know exactly what they're doing. I can see it; years and years of using this spoon for this course and this knife for this meat. They definitely have an edge. I'm surprised I'm still here, to be honest.

The princess is kind. I can't believe she let me stay here when I wasn't even here for her. I mean, she is _nothing _likeI expected her. On the television, she looks so guarded and serious. She looks so subdued and just...off. But now that I've met her, I can see that her everyone's perception of her is incorrect, or at least it's incredibly demented.

"Sir Aspen, I asked you a question," Silvia snaps. Twenty-five pairs of eyes stare at me, tempting me to say something that will mess me up.

"I'm sorry, Miss Silvia. I was too busy focusing on how to cut my chicken. We Sixes, you know, don't have the privilege of having this many utensils."

That shuts her up, and everyone else in the room for that matter. "Gentlemen, we're going to move to the Men's Parlor for the history lesson," Silvia says after an uncomfortable silence.

We nod and stand to make the small field trip. "Dude, do you really not have utensils?" a guy says. If I remember correctly, he's Thomas Peterson from Bonita.

I wave a hand. "Of course we have utensils. We just don't have as many as that."

Thomas chuckles. "Master of loopholes, huh?" he says, nudging me.

I smile. "Yeah, I guess."

As we turn a corner, my eyes find a blaze of red. "Hello, Princess America," Silvia says, prompting us to greet her as well.

"Hi," we all say, sounding like collapsing dominoes—one after the other.

The princess laughs lightly. "Hello, gentlemen."

We're all wondering the same question in our heads: Who's getting the first date?

"I look forward to seeing you for dinner," she says, as she walks past, and I notice something in her hands: a notebook. Is it a diary? I hate myself for being so curious, but I really want to know what it's for. Not even what it says, I just want to know its purpose.

I try and think about what the Notebook is during history lessons. In a couple of minutes, though, Maxon nudges my arm and points to his piece of paper where he's taking notes.

_Are you okay? _is scrawled at the top right corner of his paper.

I shake out of my daze and nod. "Yeah," I whisper.

"Sir Aspen," Silvia says, her shrill voice cutting the air again. "Do I need to suspend you from class?"

I try and think of a proper lie, but Maxon beats me to it. "Sorry, Madam Silvia," he says, no nervousness in his voice whatsoever. "It was completely my fault. I simply asked for a pen since mine stopped working, and I just couldn't bear to stand up and interrupt your wonderful lecture on our brilliant founder Gregory Illéa and how he managed to redeem our glorious country."

Silvia looks dumbfounded, her usual calm state disturbed by a ripple of Maxon's ease. She clears her throat. "Yes, very well. I apologize. As I was saying..."

I look at him, a little astounded myself. "Thank you," I mouth.

He smiles and mouths back, "Any time."

And here I thought everyone would be a douche.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

I'm not entirely sure why I defended the Leger chap, but it seems like he's been through enough. The history lesson finishes with how the two former lowest tiers of the caste system was destroyed. Then a maid rushes in with a silver platter and an envelope on top.

First date invitation. And who will it be?

I feel like it's the night of the _Report _all over again, even though it's a subdued version of panic.

Our eyes trail the maid as she walks to the envelope's owner...Which happens to be me.

"Sir Maxon, this is for you," she says in a hushed tone.

I swallow as I take the crisp white envelope off the cold, gleaming tray. "Thank you," I whisper, not finding my voice. The maid curtsies and scurries away.

I look up and every eye is watching me. "Well, go open it, jackass," someone yells. I try and identify the voice's possessor, but fail to do so.

So I take the flap of the neatly sealed envelope and pull out the white card stock.

_From the desk of Princess America Singer_

_Dear Maxon, if you'd like, you are welcome to join me for hunting in the woods. Do not fret, I have your rifle with me (a really good model according to our head huntsman). So if you could just bring yourself and something comfortable to wear (I have informed your maids about this already), meet me at the stone bench at the gardens at four-thirty sharp. I look forward to seeing you!_

_America_

Hunting. It's like she knows me already. And I haven't even said anything about myself to the woman! Or does she just assume every guy likes to hunt?

Thoughts race through my mind as the guys egg me on what we're doing. "Hunting," I simply say and check the clock. It's four o'clock already, so I'll have thirty minutes to prepare. Excellent.

I stand. "Have fun, man," a nice enough guy says, patting my back. Evan Sterner, one of three Fives in the competition.

I smile. "Thanks."

"Yeah, have a good time," some chorus back.

"Make sure you get to third base tonight." It's the same tantalizing voice that ordered me to open the envelope.

I turn around and find the smirking man. "Clancy Newman. A Two who's just too big for this palace." Aspen pointed him out to me and told me to watch out for him. I should have listened more closely.

"Frankly, I disagree." He stands and approaches me, his arms crossed. "You're the top politician's son, Maxon _Schreave. _I hear it almost every fucking night at home back in Clermont. You think I'm too big for this palace? Hell, you must think you're bigger than life."

I narrow my eyes and walk toward him with my hands in fists. "I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect to me nor to any other man." I poke his shoulder, pushing him a little. "And I will not hesitate to tell the guards and the princess that you verbally assaulted me, so you better watch your mouth and your actions." My voice drips with authority, like it does when I'm at a press conference with my father (well, the rare times he lets me speak anyway).

I walk quietly out the door and do everything I can to stop myself from slamming it. "What a pussy," I can hear him say.

I just take a deep breath and walk upstairs to my room. _He's just jealous, Maxon, _I tell myself. _You got the date card and he didn't. _

People can be so shallow these days. I'm almost tempted to tell the princess that he did that, but I don't want to be that person that downgrades another's self-worth to get ahead (even though it was vice-versa). My maid, a blond tiny girl, has my door already wide and open.

"Sir, we have to get you ready for the date!" she says urgently. I rush in and it becomes a frenzy of gel and combs and clothes. I'm glad they had the cologne I wore at home. It makes me feel more myself in this ginormous place.

I'm clad in leather hunting boots, comfortable pants, and a warm black jacket over a comfortable, cotton, long-sleeved shirt. "Thank you, er..." I'm not very good with names.

"I'm Ellie, sir," says the blond girl.

"I'm Leslie, her twin," says the nearly-identical girl.

The next maid, a tall, skinny girl, fidgets as she introduces herself. "And I'm Rosalina, or just Rosa, but you can call me whatever you want. Uh, Sir."

I smile. "Thank you, ladies. I'll be back in a while. Wish me luck!" I walk to the gardens with my hands in my pocket.

And there she is.

Princess America's red hair is in a neat, casual ponytail. She has leather gloves and a brown leather jacket over a blue sweater. Like me, she is also clad in hunting boots. And in her hands are two beautiful rifles.

"Hi there!" she says cheerily.

I bow, torn between the casualness and the fact she is the princess. "Good afternoon, your highness," I say, smiling. "You look beautiful today."

"Oh, thank you!" she says, her cheeks filling with color despite the brisk February air. "You look quite handsome as well, Sir Maxon." She awkwardly fumbles with the rifle in her hand and holds it out for me. "Um, I've never really hunted before but uh..."

I chuckle. "Don't worry. I've done plenty of hunting before, Princess America."

She waves a gloved hand. "Oh, enough with the titles. We are on a date, as weird as it is to say, and you cannot call me 'princess' or 'your highness' or 'Your Majesty' or any other stiff title."

"How do you feel about 'my dear'?" I say coyly.

She narrows her eyes. "_Especially _not 'my dear'. Lord knows how many women you've called 'your dear'."

"None, actually. I have no experience with ladies."

"Oh, really now?" It's her turn to tease.

"Oh, absolutely. When one cries, I'm not quite certain what to do."

America laughs at that. "Oh! I forgot to mention; we won't be having dinner with the rest of the men."

"Oh, really now?" I ask, mocking her.

"Oh, yes. We," she pauses for dramatic effect as she stoops down to the bench to pick up a picnic basket I didn't notice before, "are having a picnic. In the woods. All by ourselves."

"No guards or anything?" I ask.

"Well, they'll be a good five yards ago."

I smile. "Sounds good to me." I hold out my elbow. "Ready for our first dates ever?"

She smiles, and it's brighter than the sun. "Let's do this."

* * *

**Ooh, first date goes to Maxon :) And you guys were asking this, if I was Maxerica or Asperica. To be honest, if Maxerica was a religion, I'd be orthodox. But that does _not_ mean Maxon will win. It could most certainly be Aspen, or it could be a completely different (on a very slim chance because I'm not that fanfiction author where America ends up with another man). **

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I'm sorry I didn't get this posted last night. I was very tired and I only had enough time for The End. Sorry!**

**agb1700- Read my A/N above :P Lurve ya!**

**martinezsami11- I CAN'T TELL YOU ANY OF MY THOUGHTS FOR WHAT YOU SAID CUZ IT WOULD BE A TOTAL SPOILER! THANKS SO MUCH!**

**LovableL101- Thank you so much! You are so very kind! Your reviews are as lovable as your name!**

**YamiBlueberry-chan- Yeah, I lean more towards Maxerica, but Asperica's kinda cute too. I have to admit :) Thanks for reviewing!**

**theoneforever- Your reviews make my day! Thank you so much!**

**Kiren- I don't really care if reviews are long, btw :) I can't answer your question on whether or not this is an AU because that would be a spoiler! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Book addict 112- I'll try to update more, my dear! I just need more time. Like America :P Thank you for reminding me!**

**fantasybookgirl- Thank you! I'm glad you think so :)**

**lilythemermaid- (your profile pic still astounds me to silence...SO PRETTY) Haha that's funny. And yes I did make the cover. (Well, tbh, I found a picture of a crown online but it was undersaturated and I had to edit it a bit to my liking and I put the words soooo I guess I did make it? I made the one for "The End". That's my actual violin!) LALOL :***

**ilona18- Thank you so much! **

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	7. Chapter 7

_America's POV_

I am cautious to make sure I don't trip on any branches. I couldn't even imagine if I wasn't wearing boots and pants. Thank the heavens for my maids.

Maxon walks by my side. He's much taller than me so I'm sure he would have overtaken me a few minutes ago had he not known where we're going. "Would you like me to carry that for you?" he asks like a gentleman, pushing a branch out of the way in front of me.

I nod and smile. "Yes, thank you, Sir Maxon." He gets the picnic basket from my hands. It's not even that heavy, but I think it's sweet of him.

"Please. Call me Maxon."

"Maxon," I say, tasting the words on my tongue. I smile. "Maxon, I hope you enjoy hunting your own food." I turn around to see his reaction; I laugh at the mix of confusion and surprise on his face. "I'm joking. I have everything ready in that basket."

He smiles. "You sure can worry a man, America."

I'm glad he can't see the blush on my face. He is the first boy to ever call me by my name, and just my name. "Just relax, Maxon."

Then I hear a small sound that resembles fingernails on wood in the trees overhead. "Squirrel," I say.

"What kind of ammunition is in these things?"

"Um, the huntsman told me they were filled with pellets?"

Maxon sets the basket down and takes aim, and within a matter of five seconds, the squirrel drops dead from the trees. I gasp. "How did you get that?"

He shrugs and picks it up by the foot. "I practice." He shows me the squirrel, and I see where the pellet went—straight through the head. I look away. It's a squirrel, and there pests anyway, but it still nauseates me a little.

I manage a smile. "Could you teach me how to shoot?"

He gently sets the squirrel down in a thicket and approaches me. "I don't like to kill animals for sport, but I, uh, thought that I might show off once for you." He runs a hand through his hair bashfully.

I smile at how sweet he's still being. "So, how about that lesson?" I prod lightly.

"Oh, yes." He sets his rifle down, and I notice how strong his arms look yet he's still so soft and considerate towards things. He approaches me. "Okay, see that hole on that oak tree?"

"Um, no?" They all look the same when the trees are barren and leafless during winter.

He runs a good six yards away, and I notice how good he looks doing it. Maxon stops in front of a tree and points to a hole about as big as a marble. "Do you see it?" he calls.

"Yes!" I yell back.

He jogs back to me, and he's not even out of breath. "Aim for that hole."

I hoist up the gun and it feels uncomfortable in my gloved hands. Maxon observes my stance with a hand on his chin. "Make sure your feet are firm because the impact of the gun might blow you back." I arrange my feet so they're about shoulder-width apart. Then Maxon puts a hand on my shoulder. "Lower this a little." He fixes the wooden end of the rifle against my shoulder. "Make sure this hits your shoulder so your body absorbs the shock and you won't get hurt." He puts his hand on mine, the one on the trigger. "When you pull the trigger, you don't really pull it. Just lightly press on it." He puts his other hand on my hip to steady me. "And fire."

The pellet hits a good three inches away from the hole, but that will probably be the best I'll ever do. Maxon smiles. "Great job! That's quite exceptional for someone who has never shot a rifle before."

"Well, that's because I had an excellent teacher," I say coyly. I hand the rifle. "Can you try hitting it?"

A handsome half-smile appears on his face. "I can try." It turns out he doesn't need to "try". He hits the marble-sized hole effortlessly.

I whistle. "Wow."

He chuckles and sets it down. "America, would you like to have dinner?"

Dinner is my favorite meal. "Certainly, Maxon."

With a smile, Maxon pulls out the red and white checkered blanket and spreads it flat on the dry ground. I sit down and pull out the Tupperware of pasta. "I hope you like Alfredo sauce," I say, hoping he does.

"Oh, absolutely."

He pulls out the paper plates and the plastic utensils for both of us. "So what's your family like?" I ask, distracted by the food and Maxon's chocolate brown eyes.

He waits to swallow his food before he talks. "My father, Clarkson Schreave, is a power-hungry politician. A little bit of a megalomaniac, but he's able to provide more than enough for our family." He sits up straighter and stretches his back. "Then there's my mom, Amberly Schreave."

"Oh, my gosh!" I interrupt. "I love her clothing line. She's so beautiful." I can see the genes were passed down to her son.

Maxon chuckles. "Yes, Mom is quite the model. She wasn't always, though. She was a former Four who worked at factories. Then she married my father and became a Two. She's really sweet and caring and I couldn't ask for a better mom." The way he talks about his mom warms my heart.

"Do you have any siblings?" I ask.

He laughs this time. "Yes, four siblings actually."

"Four!"

"Yes. This was before Father's political campaign and outbreak. The only ones who really pay attention to us are the maids. Mom would, but she's usually in some foreign country helping with other clothing lines." He pauses to take a drink. "The oldest, my sister, Kenna got married and she moved out with her husband James. She's pregnant with her first child right now.

"There's Kota. He's, ah, well I don't really like talking about him. He basically ran away from home because he hated the lot of us, and now he's...sleeping with whoever he can get his hands on."

"Jeez," I say quietly, still eating my pasta.

"Yeah. It's fine. Um, then there's me, the twenty-one year old."

"Ah, yes. Maxon Schreave, the epitome of all things good."

He smiles shyly. "Yeah. Not much to me. I like photography. Um, not quite sure why I said that." He laughs a little.

"Photography? Really?" I notice that little spark of creativity in his eye.

He nods, still looking a little embarrassed. "Um, yeah. I like playing with the lighting and...Well, enough boring stuff."

"It's not boring," I say. "I write music sometimes. Then I, uh, play some instruments." He raises his eyebrows, begging me to tell him. "Violin, piano, flute, and I sing a little."

"Sing _a little?_ America, I remember watching you on the _Report _and you were singing the national anthem. Your voice was—is—so beautiful."

I tuck a hair behind my ear. "Thanks." I set my empty plate down. "Who are your two other siblings?"

Maxon sets his plate down as well and smiles genuinely. "There's May, who's sixteen. She's quite the rebellious teenager, going to parties and clubs and drinking."

"She drinks at sixteen?!"

Maxon nods. "Like I said. Rebellious. But I know she's just trying to fit in. She used to be this really sweet girl who wore braids and she would get bullied because the other girls were jealous. Then when May got to high school, she changed her image completely. She wears makeup and really high heels and clothes that barely cover all of her. She's the queen bee at her school and it's just...I miss the old May, but I'm not quite sure how I can convince her to become the girl who was bullied all of the time."

I nod. I can't relate. "Then there's my younger brother, Gerad. He's twelve but you'd think he was a sailor with a way he cusses. He just says it to cope with our father."

"Why? What does your father do?" I ask softly, hoping he'll tell me.

Maxon stretches his back again and smiles. "That's enough of me, America. It's your turn."

I smile. "But there's just me!"

"What about your parents?"

"You know my parents. Everyone does."

"I know their television appearances and their political fronts at galas. How are they really like?"

I think about what he's told me about his parents. They sound so different from mine. His father lets his job overrule every priority, whereas my father puts family first before country. His mother sounds so serene and compassionate, whereas my mother can be so stressed and uptight. And I don't have siblings. Would I be a different person if I had somebody else in my family?

"My father is—"

"Sorry, to interrupt, your highness," Officer Barnes says, "but it's getting quite late to be out. It would take us a thirty-minute walk back to the palace, so I suggest we start heading out."

I smile. "Thank you, Barnes." Maxon stands up before I, and he holds out his hand. I take it and he helps me up. Together, we clean up our meal. We walk back to the palace with Barnes holding both of our rifles and my hand on Maxon's arm. Beneath the jacket, I can feel the strong muscles.

"So what did you want to do as a profession?" I ask.

"I don't know." He shrugs. "I might have been a part of the military or a politician like my father."

"You wouldn't consider being a model?" I tease. Honestly, just the imagination of Maxon shirtless makes my heart beat a little faster.

He grins. "I'd rather be the photographer."

I think it's quite funny that if we didn't have to be live what we were, we'd both be Fives, the second lowest caste.

We reach the gardens and Maxon turns to me and smiles. "America, it was a pleasure to spend some time with you."

I smile. "Thank you, Maxon. The pleasure was all mine."

He bows and I curtsy, feeling so odd to do this in pants. He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it tenderly. "Good night, America."

"Good night, Maxon."

I go upstairs feeling some alien emotion unknown to me. If that was the first date, I can't wait for the ones after.

* * *

**Well, I hope that satisfied your Maxerica feels :)**

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

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	8. Chapter 8

_Aspen's POV_

Surprisingly, I get the next date.

_Dear Sir Aspen,_

_I hope you're free this afternoon. We are going to go riding. I hope you like horses (they're very gentle). And, don't worry, I'll have food with us. Dress comfortably. I've already told your maids about this, so you needn't worry unless you want to add an extra layer. It can get quite chilly! Meet me at the stables at five o'clock sharp. A guard will escort you. I look forward to spending time with you!_

_America_

So here I am, walking to the stables with an officer named Avery. "Do you know the princess?" I ask him.

He chuckles. "I know her like every palace staff member knows her: on a first name basis. We're like her siblings that look out for her, but to the younger maids, she's their big sister."

"That must be nice," I note.

Avery nods. "Yeah. She's really good to her maids. Especially to Lucy. Lord knows how scared she'd be all the time without America."

"Do you have any advice for me?" I ask. "You know, to impress her?"

He stops walking for a moment and frowns. "Weren't you the guy who said he was only here for the food?"

"That's not true."

"Come on, man," he says, continuing our trip. "I enlisted in the army because the pay is good and so is the food. I don't pay attention to that patriotism shit, and I don't think you do either."

"You don't know anything about me," I retort, trying not to lose my anger.

"Whatever, man. Just be honest with her and be yourself, though I'd tone down the drama if I were you."

"Fine," I huff.

"And if she ends up falling for you and you break her heart..." He stops in front of the main stable entrance. "I'm going to break your bones myself."

"Understood, Officer."

"Call me Avery. You seem alright." He shakes my hand and returns the way we came.

I don't want to be a hypocritical ass, but I know I'm not the only one here for the perks of being a Selected. I know Evan's motives are slightly in that area and I know that I want to provide for my family. It's just the way things are.

"Sir Aspen!" I hear a sweet, melodic voice say.

I turn to the princess, her red hair kept beneath a riding helmet. She's wearing a navy blue blazer and riding boots. I have to admit, Princess America is beautiful.

"Hello, your highness," I say, bowing.

She approaches me with a smile. "Well, look at you. You do look nice in a riding outfit."

"Not nearly as nice-looking as you, Princess."

She wrinkles her nose. "Please, call me America."

"Then you deserve to call me Aspen."

She smiles again, her grin lighting up the dingy, smelly stables. "Agreed. Aspen."

I smile back at her and extend my arm. "Lead me away. America."

She takes my arm. "Have you ever gone horseback riding?"

I nod. "Once, when my father found a colt in the forest. I was, I think, about six or seven."

"Your father sounds like a kind man."

I swallow down my tears. "Yeah. He was."

America suddenly turns to me, her blue eyes filled with compassion and guilt. "Aspen, I'm so sorry."

I clench my jaw and release it. I manage a smile. "Nothing to be sorry for."

Suddenly, she gives me a timid and quick hug. "Well," I say after pulling away, "we're here on a date so let's make the best of it."

America smiles and leads me to a horse the color of mahogany wood. "This is Cherry," she says. "She's a good, tame horse, and she'll keep you on her back even without any reigns."

"Sounds good to me."

"Oh, she is. First horse I've ever ridden."

A stableman helps me mount the horse and America smiles from below. "How are you doing up there?"

"Seems pretty high and mighty to me."

She laughs and hands me a helmet. "You might want to wear this."

"Yeah, probably."

She laughs again and goes to the other gate where another horse is waiting. It's the color of sand. America mounts it effortlessly, with only the help of a stepping stool. She scratches the spot behind the palomino's ear and whispers in a soft voice. She looks so gentle and caring, yet I know she's so headstrong and passionate.

The stableman instructs me on how I should use the reigns to steer the horse, and I pay close attention. I don't want to make a fool of myself all of a sudden. "Don't worry," he says in a think Southern accent. "America'll show you the way."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm just doin' my job," he replies, patting the horse. "It's her you should be thankin'."

"Will do, sir."

"You best git on your way. Wouldn't want it to be after sundown when you get back."

"Got it, sir."

I meet America on the other side and she turns around to tell me, "You ready?"

"Ready when you are," I reply.

She shoots me a smile and leads the way into the forest. I try to keep up with her, but I don't know if Cherry will be able to speed ahead. "Aspen, you can ride up next to me so we can talk," she calls over her shoulder.

I snap the reins a little, and Cherry pulls through for me, sidling up next to the the sandy palomino. "Hey there," America says.

"Hello."

"So have you been doing since you arrived here three days ago?"

"Oh, you know, just learning Illéan history with Silvia. Oh, yeah, we're also learning which forks to use with which meals.

She laughs. "I know, right? There are simply too many."

"I'm surprised you would have an issue with that."

"Why wouldn't I? Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean that I think absurd things aren't absurd. I mean, three forks for one meal? Ridiculous."

I laugh. I didn't know she'd think food etiquette is ridiculous, and I certainly didn't think she'd have a sense of humor. "So what is palace life like?" I ask.

"Oh, you mean for me?" she asks, pointing to herself. I nod. "Well, I usually read, do my studies with Silvia, organize charity balls on occasion, play music—"

"What do you play?"

"Oh." America blushes a little. "I play, uh, piano, violin, and flute. And I sing and write music a little."

"Was that the notebook I saw you holding two days ago?" I ask.

"Yep, my trusty music notebook. I have everything in there. Losing it would be a nightmare."

"Well, let's hope you don't lose it then." I wink at her and she looks amused.

"What would you be doing at home right now?" she asks.

I shrug. "Maybe help clean up some rich person's home, or help move some things. Drive my sisters to school maybe?"

"You have sisters?" America says, and I have the notion that she wants to change the topic from my slightly destitute way of living.

I smile. "Yep. Twins, actually. Celia and Kamber. And, uh, I have a younger brother named Jemmy."

"Really?" she says, intrigued. "I wish I had siblings. They sound so fun."

"Yeah, they are. At times." _At times when they're not hungry,_ I think silently.

"If I had a sister I'd get to braid her hair and dress her up," America says.

"What if you had a brother, though?" I ask, teasing.

"Then I wouldn't have a Selection at all and you wouldn't be here to ask me that question." She smirks while saying it, but this has suddenly piqued my interest.

"That has always confused me. If you don't mind my asking, why _do_ you have a Selection?"

She sighs and blows a hair out of her face. "I'm an only child, and so are my parents. There is nobody else in line for the throne. My mother tried for more children, and hell, she—and the rest of the country, I might add—was upset I wasn't a boy. She had plenty of miscarriages and, um, she eventually stopped trying. The pain was too much for her."

"Oh," I say quietly.

"Yeah, and, um, they couldn't marry me off to a prince because those princes have to rule their own country. So, my parents decided even when I was at a very young age that I would have my own Selection to have a chance at finding true love with one of Illéa's men. And if I don't find love here, I don't know what I'd do."

"I'm sure you'll find somebody to love."

"What if they don't love me back?" For the first time, I hear uncertainty and fear in her voice.

"I'm sure they will. You're smart, and beautiful, and very kind."

She blushes, her cheeks turning the same color as her hair. "I thought you weren't here for me," she says silently.

"I might end up changing my mind." She looks at me and I wink at her.

She laughs. "I think this is a good place to have dinner, don't you think?"

"What time is it?"

"About six o'clock."

"We've been riding for nearly an hour?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

"Yes," I say, hopping off my horse. "Yes, it does."

* * *

**Well, that was Aspen and America's date for you Asperica fans (I know you're out there). Thanks so much for the reviews/favorites/follows! I didn't think this story would be successful :) Thank you so much! **

**Oh, and side note, I hope you don't need my telling you every chapter I don't own the Selection.**

**Book addict 112- I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thank you!**

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**ilona18- I'm so happy you're enjoying! And I haven't read that book. I'm sorry! And of course I included number 3 and 4! They're the best components of Maxon and America! (I'm dying from the feels all over again.) Thank you so much!**

**Kiren- Haha May can't be tamed :P Thanks so much!**

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**Devil- Haha I always do that. Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it :)**

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**Jazmin- Haha Maxerica and Aspency may or may not happen. It could me Asperica or Maxerica or something completely crazy. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl **


	9. Chapter 9

_America's POV_

Eliminating men proves to be easier than I thought. It's still difficult—no aspect of it is simple—but it doesn't make me want to throw up like I expected it would.

Jordan Reese was the first to leave during a date. He was simply being too forward. So I was taking him out for a walk in the woods and he put his hand on my butt. Then he got super insane and said he wanted to kiss me. It was just the fifth day! So I did the only reasonable thing I thought of doing: I kneed him in the groin.

He went home with an aching heart, and um, probably another thing aching.

Aside from Jordan, nine more boys have left since the beginning of the competition. One of the men punched Clancy in the jaw. Who would have the nerve to do such a thing? Andrew went home immediately.

It's going to be March in a few days, which means the scheduled visit from the royal family of Swendway will be tomorrow. The Swendish queen—whose name I couldn't pronounce to save my life—is my mother's best friend. The queen's children might as well be my cousins, albeit extremely distant.

I wander down the halls. I haven't scheduled any dates with anyone yet, and I don't know whom I want to go with next. I already went with Maxon, Aspen, Carter, Evan, Quintin, Ross, Grayson, and Brody. The ones who haven't gotten dates yet are Clancy, Peter, Thomas, Jay, Norman, Edmond, and Christian. I mean, the remaining seven guys seem nice. I guess I'll have to pick randomly.

I turn a corner and I'm surprised when I hit a wall. Or, at least, what seems like one.

"Oh, I'm sorry, your highness," a man says.

I smile and try to gather myself. "It's completely alright, Sir Clancy." His face finally registers a name in my head.

"Princess, would you like to take a walk outside?" he asks.

Technically, only I am allowed to schedule my times. But no one said that the guy could ask me and no one said I had to decline if he did. "Why, certainly, Sir Clancy."

He extends his arm and I take it. Clancy is one of those boys that are cocky and have every right to be. His dark brown hair curls is slightly curly, and his smile is big and confident.

We reach the gardens outside and I ask, "So, Sir Clancy—"

"Oh, please, just call me Clancy."

Another thing: The boys always tell me to call them by their names. I'm not sure if it's because they're eager to get on a first-name basis or they're just being men.

"Okay, Clancy. What did you do back in Clermont?"

"I was a model," he says, a slight embarrassment creeping in his voice. I don't see why. Just judging how he looks in suits and ties, he must have been a really good model. I'll just say it: Clancy is hot. Not the hottest of the entire competition, because I admit there are several others that have caught my eye, but he's definitely a looker.

"Oh, really?" I say, trying to sound surprised. "What did you model for?"

"Some clothing lines, and I was in some commercials here and there."

"That sounds amazing," I say.

"Yes, it's incredibly fun to expose—er, I meant express—yourself through poses and photography."

Well, this just became a little awkward.

"What are your favorite magazines, your highness?"'

It's almost a silly question, but I say, "I quite like _Illéa Today_. And I occasionally glimpse at the gossip magazines. I have to protect a reputation, you know," I joke.

Clancy laughs. "Yes, I do know what you mean. Reputations should be protected, especially if you're royalty."

I nod and our conversation takes a pause. "Are you ready for the _Report _on Friday?" I ask him. "Gavril will be asking you some questions."

He feigns a groan, but he's smiling. "Oh, that's right. I can already have a picture of what will happen."

"Oh, yeah?" I ask coyly. "What do you think he'd ask you?"

Clancy shrugs. "'Clancy, what do you think of the princess?'" He looks at me and I continue half-smiling, prodding him to go on. "'Well, Gavril, she is certainly the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on. You know, Princess America's music is almost as beautiful as herself.'"

I tuck a stray hair behind my ear. "Would you really say that?"

He nods. "Absolutely. You're probably the most treasured person in all of Illéa."

"Well, there's my father."

"But that is different altogether."

My cheeks warm again and I try to change the subject. "So, if Gavril asks what you've done with me since you arrived here..."

"I'd say I had a wonderful time strolling with the Princess in the gardens. And when I spot you with another man, I wish that man was me."

I try to hide my growing smile and my red blush. "We should probably go back inside," I say.

"Good idea," Clancy replies, a little reluctantly.

He walks me to the grand staircase and bows. "It was wonderful speaking with you, your highness."

"Thank you for accompanying me, Clancy."

He nods with a smile and walks upstairs.

I get the sudden want to read. So I head for the library, and surprisingly, I find Maxon there. "Hello, Maxon," I say, making him jump from the book he's reading.

Maxon smiles as soon as he sees me. "Well, what are the odds of seeing you here in the library." He stands up to give me a loose hug. "How are you doing today, my dear?"

"I'm not your dear," I say, sitting next to him. "But it's been going well. I took a walk with Clancy Newman a while ago."

Maxon furrows his brows. "Clancy?"

"What? I thought he was nice and he actually wants to be here."

"Hey! I want to be here, and the only thing he wants is to get in your pants. Well, I should say dress."

I gape at him with a smile and smack his shoulder. "No, he does not. He seemed to be interested in me, personality-wise."

"Well, the other guys don't like him. They say he's a player. And he also put glass in someone's hair gel."

I gasp. "Do you know that for sure?"

"He's the most likely person to have done it."

I narrow my eyes. "You don't have evidence. You can't simply assume that he's the culprit."

"I forgot to mention, he provoked Andrew to hit him."

"Enough," I say hotly. "I don't want to hear about it."

We're silent for a while. "I'm sorry," Maxon says. "It's just...I want to look out for you. I want to tell you who's good and who isn't."

I smile and put my hand on his. "Hey, I really appreciate it. Truly. But maybe you should be looking out for yourself instead."

He chuckles and holds my hand. "What if I just want to talk to you?"

"Like, as a friend?" I say knowingly with a smile.

He grins back. "Yeah. As a friend."

I shrug. "Maybe we could come up with a signal?"

He nods. "Scratching your nose maybe?"

"No, we'd look ridiculous and it's too obvious."

He chuckles again. "How about tugging our ears?" I suggest.

"That works," he says.

I smile. "Well, I better let you get back to..." I look at what he's reading. "The Monarch of Illéa."

He smirks. "I'll try to immerse myself in the fascinating studies."

I laugh and leave the room, feeling happier already.

* * *

**Two issues: One, sorry some random Selected guy got kneed instead of Maxon. I just didn't feel like she'd knee Maxon. Two, I hope you liked the tug your ear thing I shoved in there. If you guys have any ideas, please do not hesitate to PM me or review. **

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**agb1700- I totally forgot to thank you! I saw it then I forgot about it because I had to eat dinner! Shoot. You're soooo AMAZINGER! Lurve ya and thank you! (Do you watch the Bachelorette?)**

**jstachew- (Eek you reviewed again!) Well, I really don't know who's going to win. That sounds awful of me, but I honestly don't know. Thank you so much!**

**ilona18- Nah, it's fine. If you laughed because of Aspen, be my guest :P America might get more hot-headed. She just needs to warm up to the guys more. The circumstances are very different, so I'm not sure if she'll still be that temperamental. And also, I'm sorry she didn't knee Maxon. I feel bad :( Forgive me? And I'm super telepathic. I mentally programmed your computer to show a horse ad :P Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**Jazmin- Haha I'm not sure if Lucy will end up with Aspen... Heehee. Thanks!**

**Kiren- Haha I'll take a chance on those statistics. Thank you so much!**

**krriordan- New reviewer! Thank you so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Haha torture. Um, who seems more like friends to you? Asperica or Maxerica?**

**lilythemermaid- Hahaha Asperica was short-lived. And I'm telepathic so I mentally programmed your computer to show a horse ad for this chapter. :P I'm sure there will be more Maxerica soon :) LALOL**

**winterprincess- Maxerica 100%, eh? Thank you!**

**Guest- Aw thank you so much! **

**This chapter almost didn't make it today cuz I was running out of creative juices (is that what it's called?). **

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: The Selection Trilogy belongs to Kiera Cass. **

_Aspen's POV_

The palace gets a little boring after some time. Everything seems like the same hallway with glittering chandeliers and expensive paintings. I wander the hallways with no definite destination nor purpose. I find a door cracked open, and I'm surprised there are no guards outside. I take a peek _inside_ and there are guards _everywhere._

I catch words of the conversation. I can tell it's a meeting I'm not supposed to know about, but a particular sentence makes me want to smash every china vase in this place. The Selection isn't a lottery at all. They hand-picked the men for this damn thing. I'm furious. So what does that make me? Am I the joke candidate? The one that tricks people into thinking that this is by chance?

God, I can't believe I was such an idiot. This is almost as bad as finding out my little brother was whipped for stealing bread. I walk back to the Men's Parlor and see Carter step out of it with Maxon.

I beckon them over and lead them to a deserted-enough hallway. "Aspen, what's going on?" Carter asks. Maxon has the same question in his eyes.

"I was taking a walk in the halls, and I heard the king say that the Selection isn't a lottery," I explain.

"Wait, so they chose us based on our pictures and applications?" Carter asks.

Maxon awkwardly puts his hands in his hands. "Maxon, did you know about this?" I ask.

He looks outside the window. "Yes, I did. My father's a politician, and he wanted to give me every advantage possible. If it was a lottery, why is there the need to ask your talents and the amount of foreign languages you speak?"

"I can't believe I didn't notice," I mutter.

"It's fine, Aspen," Maxon says. "This just means they saw potential in you. I mean, if anything, this makes you more desirable."

"Or I could be the joke candidate that makes the Selection look well-rounded," I reply.

"Hey, what does that mean for me?" Carter says.

"It doesn't matter," Maxon says. "Everyone here is eligible for the princess."

"But some have advantages," I say pointedly to Maxon.

"Hello, Sirs," a female voice says.

Shit.

The three of us bow. "Princess America," we all say.

"How are you three doing today?" She takes turns hugging the three of us.

"We're doing alright," Carter says with an effortless smile.

"That's great. Hey, the _Report _is in an hour, so I suggest you guys get ready."

We murmur agreements and she laughs. "I'll see you boys later."

And she leaves.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

This is the first _Report _where we actually have to talk. I'm not that nervous about it. Gavril's just going to ask me questions, and I'll answer them. Right?

America glances at me from the stage and she smiles. I smile back and subtly tug my ear. She does the same, and I'm more than excited to get the interviews over.

After Carter, I'm called to the stage. Gavril shakes my hand. "Sir Maxon, how are you this evening?"

"I'm doing well, Gavril. How are you?"

"Splendid. So let's dive right in; how is your stay at the palace?"

"It's been magnificent, Gavril. The palace is almost as beautiful as the princess." I see America blush a little.

"Beautiful, eh?" Gavril says, interested. "Tell me, what else do you think about the princess?"

"America is very kind." Everyone gasps and I realize I'd been too careless. I said her name without any formality!

"I assume you're close with 'America' then?"

I chuckle, embarrassed. "Yes, I, um..." I chuckle again.

"Honestly, Sir Maxon. What do you think of the princess?"

America looks at me, eager to see what I have to say about her. "I think Princess America has a good head on her shoulders. She's kind and smart and beautiful. She has been one of my closest friends in this competition. She'll make a wonderful and brilliant ruler."

The audience is quiet for a while to absorb my words. I'm afraid America will be appalled, but it's quite the opposite. "Thank you, Sir Maxon."

"It's been a pleasure, Gavril." We shake hands and the cameraman yells, "Cut!"

I rush to my room because I remember America's meeting me. The last time I talked to her privately had been two nights ago when we tugged our ears during dinner. I'm excited to see her again. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't falling for her. I fell for her like I fell from a building; hard and fast. And the pain of seeing her with any other man hurts like I landed on the concrete.

The knock on the door finally comes, and I open it.

* * *

_America's POV_

"Hello, my dear," he says with a smirk.

I laugh and he leads me to the balcony. I breathe in the fresh winter air. I'm regretting I don't have a wrap with me right now.

Maxon breaks the comfortable silence by smacking his forehead. "I am so sorry I called you America in front of national television."

I laugh at how embarrassed he is. "Maxon, we've been calling each other by our first names so regularly that it was bound to slip out."

I shiver and he says, "Are you cold?" He doesn't wait for my response as he puts his suit coat around my shoulders.

"Thank you," I mumble.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" he says, wonder filling his voice.

I hit his arm. "Shut up, Maxon."

"I'm serious!" he says. "You could wear a potato sack and still look lovely."

I like how Maxon makes me feel normal, like we are of the same level and that we are equal. "Did you mean what you said a while ago?" I ask after a while.

"About you?" he asks. I nod. "Of course. I don't lie often. America, you are kind but a bit on the temperamental side if you ask me. In a good way, of course. I remember what you told me about kneeing Jordan."

I cover my face with my hands. "Ugh, don't remind me. I can't handle this many men!"

He laughs, a whole sound coming from deep within him. "One can never help being born into perfection," he says, mock flipping his hair, as if his hair was long enough to flip.

I giggle. "No, I don't suppose you can help it." I glance out at the gardens and appreciate how beautiful it looks at night. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Maxon looking at me intently. I turn my face, and I'm suddenly surprised at how close he is, close enough to kiss me.

I'm even more shocked when he does.

I pull away and take a step back.

He takes a step as well and mumbles, "Sorry."

"What are you doing?" I ask in a shocked whisper.

"I thought you actually liked me. And I said I'd be here for you as a friend, but I thought you knew I liked you...and I thought that maybe I could make my move even though you're the princess, and that was my first kiss, but I should have remembered you're still the princess...I'm sorry." He looks at me, a wildfire of a blush on his face. "Was it that bad? I'm sorry. I've never done that before...I'm sorry, America."

I try to wipe whatever expression is on my face. Maxon looks mortified. But a warmth fills me up as realization dawns on me that he wants his first kiss to be with me.

"That was my first kiss too," I say shyly. He lets out a little gasp as I step up to him and rub my hand across his forehead.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I think we can do better."

"America, I don't think you can change history." Still, his expression is hopeful.

"Sure we can," I say. "Besides, who'd ever know about it but you and me?"

We look at each other for a moment, staying that way, as if moving an inch would break this moment. I see a cautious confidence creep on his face. "One can never help being born into perfection," I whisper, repeating what he said.

He wraps an arm around my waist so that we're facing each other. His nose tickles mine, as well as his slow, warm breath against my mouth.

"No, I don't suppose you can," he whispers on my lips.

With his hand on my cheek, he lowers his lips to mine and gives me the faintest whisper of a kiss.

The tentativeness of this all makes me feel as beautiful as Maxon says I am. That rare moment comes when I actually feel like a princess without having to see myself wearing a tiara.

Maxon makes me feel as if he's the prince and I'm the lucky girl.

After a moment, he pulls back and says quietly, "Was that better?"

I can only nod. He looks as if he's on the verge of doing a flip. My heart feels a similar feeling. It's that same feeling I felt after my date with Maxon, and it's the same feeling I have every time I see him.

"I know that there are fourteen other men fighting for you in this palace, and I won't hesitate in saying that you must have some sort of feelings for them as well."

I stay silent as he continues. "I know that one of them would be more suited beside you, ruling this country. But I just want to know if there is one small chance, one possibility..."

Almost so quickly it frightens me, I can see this man ruling Illéa by my side. But I could also see some of the other guys ruling with me. I don't want to be leading Maxon on if that possibility of my picking him is nonexistent. But as it is, the possibility stands true.

"Yes, Maxon," I whisper. "It's possible."

* * *

**Aww they kissed. I took some lines from the Selection, and I don't mean to steal anything. At all. Promise. **

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	11. Chapter 11

_Maxon's POV_

I feel like a teenage guy in high school. I've got a secret to hide, a secret to share. And it's with America. Naturally, I wouldn't go bragging about it to the guys. And I'd hope that I was the only one she's kissed.

That's why here I am, three days later, so surprised when Norman rushes in the Men's Parlor announcing he kissed America yesterday. Well, that doesn't mean she kissed him back.

Right?

"Oh, man, did you get to third base with her?" Clancy presses, and he doesn't look the least bit agitated. He knows this is more irritating to the rest of us than it is to him.

And he's right.

My blood is boiling at the thought of America kissing someone else. Jealousy was never one of my strongest feelings, but I feel the emotion overwhelm and plague me now.

I remind myself, though, that this is a competition. This is dating a woman who is dating other men due to irregular circumstances. I'm actually starting to hate the Selection, actually.

I look at the guys around and notice that one is missing: Aspen.

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

"So what do you like doing for fun?" I ask her. "Well, other than climbing trees."

America laughs from beside me, and I'm worried she's going to fall off the oak branch. "I don't know. Just playing music, I guess. I also happen to enjoy cooking."

"You can cook?" I say, impressed.

"Yes, it's not something I brag about."

"Well, any talent is still a talent."

"It's more like a skill, really."

"Well, I want to taste some of your cooking," I say. "I'm not eternally hungry," I say quickly. "I just, uh, want to prove to you that it's something to be proud of."

She laughs and I put my arm around her waist to steady her. She rolls her eyes playfully. "Come on, Aspen. I'm not going to fall off."

"There should really be a tree house or something," I mumble. "I like being up here, but don't you just get the feeling that you'll fall?"

"Falling isn't so bad sometimes."

I have a feeling we're not talking about falling off trees anymore.

"America, I need you to know something," I say. I still feel cheated that the Selection wasn't how it was played to be. It's a game with almost a predetermined winner.

"Okay," she says warily.

"I was walking in the halls, and I overheard a meeting with your father. The Selection isn't a lottery. We're not randomly picked."

America pauses a while and covers her mouth with her hand. "My father lied to me? Why?"

"I'm not sure, but I just thought you'd want to know."

"Then how come you're here?" she blurts out. "And Evan's picture was awful."

"Evan has good connections, even for a Four. I'm here because I'm the joke candidate. They want to keep tricking people that the Selection is a lottery."

"Aspen, you're no joke," she says softly.

My arm is still around her waist, and I pull her a tad bit closer. Her soft lips touch mine, and I know I'm a goner. "Falling isn't so bad sometimes," I mumble against her mouth.

"No. It isn't."

I'm more than confident I'm going to make it to the Elite.

* * *

_America's POV_

Later that day, I could tell something was wrong. "Princess, you're needed in the meeting room," Officer Barnes says.

I frown. "Is something wrong?"

"Please, your highness. It's urgent."

I make sure I look okay before going downstairs. "What is it?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

I still can't grasp the thing Aspen told me. I don't see why my dad or my mom hid it from me. I don't see the point in it at all! I'm fuming, waiting for Dad's answer.

"America, a member of the Selected was caught undressing another woman."

I gasp, and my trust with everyone crumbles to nothing.

* * *

**Ooh who is it? You guys probably know, but yeah. That happened.**

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	12. Chapter 12

_America's POV_

I stare at my dad, mouth open and practically allowing the flies to make my mouth a home. "What?" I blurt. "How...How do you know? When? Who was it?"

"America, it's best you sit down," he says, neglecting the use of my favorite nickname "kitten" in front of the advisers.

So I take a seat and listen intently. "Carter Woodwork was the candidate."

I went on a date with Carter. He's very kind and gentlemanly, courteous and funny without being mean. I think of him as more of a friend, but it would have rude of me to rule him out completely. He was one of the people's favorites.

"We caught him last night with one of his maids, Marlee Tames, in his room," an angry adviser spits. Unlike the maids and the guards, I steer clear from the advisers. The palace staff are my siblings, and the advisers are the uncles I never liked or wanted.

"Well, she is his maid," I argue. "If you aren't aware, she is supposed to be in his room." Marlee is one of the sweetest maids I've ever known. She came to the palace a year ago. I refuse to believe that she'd do this.

"Excuse me, _Princess_," he retorts, "but maids are not to work with their uniforms half on, precariously hanging on their hips, while kissing their master."

I clench my jaw, and I vaguely feel my fingernails digging into my palms. "Do they have any connection prior to this moment? I cannot simply believe that a man would fall in love with a girl he's known for merely two weeks." I fight to keep my voice level, but everything in my head tells me that it's wrong to be calm during this accusation.

"Yes," replies a much calmer adviser. "They knew each other from their home province. If you remember correctly, Marlee Tames came thirteen months before joining the palace staff. Her loyalties had been not been strengthened by time, and if anything, she'd do anything to keep what was from her previous life."

It strikes me how logical this man is being. My fury dims a bit, but it's still there, bright and burning. "Then I'll eliminate him immediately after this meeting," I say, my voice struggling to borderline shouting.

"Unfortunately," the ruder adviser says, "that cannot be a viable consequence."

That does it.

I slam my fists on the table and stand. "And why not?" I say, my voice neither a whisper nor a shout. It is on the very edge of a cliff, hanging on a precipice because I am trying so very hard to keep my calm.

The advisers jump. "Princess," a wiry adviser who looks about ready to pee his pants says quickly. "The official rules state that unfaithfulness to the prince or princess is treason and punishable by death."

"Death!" I say. "Would you punish a man for loving a woman? That's like forbidding a ruler to rule or a musician to play."

"Princess, the country will not have it," an adviser says. His narrow eyes say that he's not afraid of me or my temper, but being feared is something I never wanted anyway. "There will be a mutiny in our hands, and lying to the country—"

"How dare you?" I hiss, slowly sitting down. "How dare you say lying to the country is horrible when you lie to me? The Selection is a lottery? Bullshit. That's what it is. How dare you hide that from me? I found out from someone else who hasn't been in the palace as long as any of you fools."

"Your highness, you better watch your temper." I actually know the name of this adviser. He's the one always contesting me and underestimating me.

"Markson, so help me—"

"Back to the topic at hand," Dad finally interrupts. "I agree that the country won't be pleased either way. I don't want another rebellion in my hands. However, death is too much."

"Then it shall be a caning," Markson says defiantly. "That is the only feasible consequence that could possibly please the country."

"A caning?" another adviser argues. "That is simply not enough."

"Not enough?" I say, fighting my voice again. "How would _you _like to be caned?"

"That is _their_ fault for committing treason. Princess, a man was unfaithful to you. Disloyal. Adulterous. How can you simply ignore that?"

"I can ignore it because I am not spiteful nor sadistic. I do not get pleasure derived from another's pain, especially when those two people are my friends."

The room is silent for a moment. Even the guards keeping watch are quiet. "So that's it?" I say. "A caning?"

"_And _they must be stripped to Sixes."

I scoff. "Marlee is already a Six. What are you going to do? Invent a lower caste to justify yourself?"

"If it is necessary, yes."

I want to hit him. My nails are long and filed, I'll do it. I'm fuming, and I exhale a heavy, angry breath.

"Fine," he responds. "They will be flown to Dominica to rot."

I narrow my eyes but furiously nod.

"How many times?" another adviser pipes up.

"Two," I say.

"Princess, they've been doing this for who knows how long," another replies. "Two is not enough."

Through gritted teeth, I say, "Your definition of 'enough' is so deformed. How can you even call yourself a man?"

"Five then. Does that please you, _your highness_?" Markson utters my title like I am anything but. Like I am the least probable person deserving respect.

"Nothing about this situation pleases me, _Markson. _I advise you stay out of my way the next twenty-four hours." I stand and cross my arms. "Is this meeting finished?"

"We still have to discuss a few things," Dad says. "But you may go. If you want to see them, they are in the underground cells." He turns to the nearest guard and orders him to escort me there.

Officer Harrison doesn't hesitate to get me out of there. As soon as he closes the door, I put my finger to my lips and put my ear against the door.

"Your Majesty, your daughter is certainly temperamental. She'll never be a proper queen."

"Markson, you better watch your tongue before I fire you and make _you _a Six. Is that clear?"

The lack of a response is enough for me. I'm smiling inside, feeling adored that my dad stood up for me. We reach the cells, and I go to the only occupied cells. One is all the way at the end of the chamber, the other is closest to the door. I look in the first one and there is a heap of black, white, and yellow.

"Marlee?" I say softly. Her blond hair swishes as she turns her head.

"America!" she cries. Her uniform is ripped at the hem and several places. She's wearing a suit coat, but she's still shivering in the dank cellar. She crawls to me, and I reach my hand through the bars. Her small, callused hands from doing months of maid work. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I'm sorry." Tears streak her dirty face, and I can tell she really is sorry.

I wipe the tears from her face and say, "Shh. It's alright, Marlee. You didn't hurt me. If anything, I'm thankful. One less man to worry about, right?" I say it through a pained smile.

Marlee still manages a laugh through her tears. "I'm gonna die," she says. "This is punishable by death, and they're going to kill me."

"No, no they're not," I reply. "I already talked to my dad and the advisers, and it was a hell of an argument. The best I could do was a caning. I'm so sorry, Marls."

She smiles though, her smile as luminous as it had been before. "Ames, that's perfectly fine. I get to live. That is more that I could ask for."

I nod but whisper urgently so the officers in the chamber don't hear. "Listen to me. They're planning to fly you to another province, but I know the palace is your main place of work."

"For once, I think I'm glad I don't have parents to be ashamed of me," she says ruefully.

"Marls, after the caning tomorrow, I'm going to find you at the hidden back entrance of the palace. Do you understand?"

She nods. "Yes, but what about Carter?"

"The same applies to him, and I'll relay the message."

She nods, waiting for further information. "When that happens," I continue, "you have to disguise yourself and join the kitchen staff. I know you were more part of the housekeeping division, correct?" She nods. "Change your name, change everything you need to remain discreet. No one can know of this, you hear?" She nods vigorously again. "As for Carter, I'm sure there is space for him at the stables. Is that alright?"

Marlee holds onto my hands for dear life. "Ames, that's perfect." She smiles, and I return it too.

"Marlee, are you two planning to get married?" I say.

She nods. "Yes, we were planning it."

"This might be a long while before it's official, but there is an event happening in a few weeks. It's the Easter Ball, and I promise, during the preparations for it, I'll find you a priest."

"America, that's...That's lovely. I couldn't thank you more." Then she giggles and says, "America, would you like to be my maid of honor?"

I giggle with her. "Absolutely. And would you be mine?"

"Of course!"

She laces her fingers with mine and she says, "So, who will the lucky man be?"

I blow a hair out of my face. "I don't even know yet."

"Well, you must really like at least one of them."

I smile. "There are these two boys."

"Wait, wait, let me guess. That politician's son and the Six from Carolina?"

I gasp. "How did you know?"

"I know you too well, America. And I see you on dates with them. You look like they're the only ones there."

I blush and look away. "I don't want to drag this out anymore. Should I eliminate down to the Elite?"

"You might as well if you're so sure on who you like."

I nod. "Okay, six remaining then." My legs feel numb from kneeling so long, but I don't want to leave Marlee yet. She's one of my closest friends of the palace staff. I hate to leave her in this empty chilly cell. "What happened that night?" I ask. "How did you get caught?"

"A guard barged in saying they had to bring Carter to the Men's Parlor, but I could swear he was homosexual and he just wanted a peek."

I wrinkle my nose and scrunch my face. She nods. "I know."

At that moment, Officer Harrison taps my shoulder. "America, I suggest you talk to the other fellow before you run out of time," he says apologetically.

I nod. "Very well then." I give Marlee's hands a last squeeze and I whisper, "Back entrance tomorrow. I'll have a guard escort you there. I'll make it two if necessary."

"Thank you so much, America. I'd hug you if I could." We share a laugh, and I walk to Carter's cell. He's covered in dirt, like he spent the entire night rolling in mud.

Carter apologizes immediately, but I wave it aside and tell him the instructions. He thanks me, and as I make my way back upstairs, I think hard of what the guys would think of me. I'll just have to make the eliminations now. Yes, that way less people will have to be at the caning in person.

I turn to Harrison. "I need you to get all of the Selected and tell them to meet me in the Men's Parlor."

He bows and leaves. I enter the empty Men's Parlor, and I am so afraid. Afraid for Carter and Marlee, afraid about the country's reaction, afraid of what the men will think of me. I'm not usually one who cares about what other people think of me, but these guys are different. If one of them is going to be my husband, I have to care.

The first guy enters, then the next, and soon fifteen guys are in here.

I can only gulp and clasp my hands together.

* * *

**I know the caning was in _The Elite _and it happened a little later than in this story. Forgive me and I hope you understand why it's this way. Also, in the chapter where America meets the guys, she lists the maids she passes by and Marlee is one of them. Just a thought.**

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**selectionprincess59- The Selection starts two week after the prince's or princess's birthday. America's birthday is February 15. Therefore, this story will not have a Halloween Ball. Thanks for reviewing!**

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	13. Chapter 13

_Maxon's POV_

Dinner starts as its usual cheery affair. Everyone's in here...except for Carter. He must be on a date with America.

I wish I was him right now.

Call me clingy, but I just want to spend more time with America. She's nothing like I expected her to be. It's the standard and classic answer, but I can only speak the truth. I thought she'd keep to herself and she would be awkward and nonchalant, but I've been completely wrong.

I don't want to tell her my feelings yet until I am absolutely sure, and only when I know for sure she feels the same way. I've never been in love, nor have I had the opportunity. As a politician's son, I knew for a long time that I'd be unobtainable lest my father approves of the girl. I couldn't ruin his career, but I don't understand why I can't meet with a girl when May gets to go clubbing. He probably doesn't know, though.

America enters the Dining Hall, and I'm confused. Was Carter sent home? America looks like she's been crying, and yet she still looks so beautiful. I meet her eye and offer a small smile. She attempts one, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes like usual. I tentatively tug my ear and wait for her reply. My heart drops a bit when I think she doesn't want to meet me, but she hesitantly tugs her ear back. I nod and return to my meal.

After a few minutes, America stands. "I know that it's a bit early in the competition, but I feel like this is the proper time for me to do this." We're all holding our breaths as she exhales hers. "I'm eliminating down to the Elite."

So Carter was eliminated.

"First and foremost, I want all of you fifteen remaining men to know that you were a pleasure to have at the palace. I haven't had this much fun since I was a child." Short, nervous laughs are uttered in the room. "However, I know who among you fifteen have the most chance of being my husband as well as the future king of Illéa. So I have decided to eliminate nine of you, leaving only six to stay as the Elite."

Some silverware drop at the mention of that and more than a few cusses float in the air like smog. "So, I'll start by announcing the men who will be staying." She takes a deep breath and says the first name. "Quintin Hadlow."

He smiles a small one, not wanting to be a braggart.

"Jay Huang."

He smiles politely and my hands are sweating. America likes me, right? She would have told me if she didn't.

"Clancy Newman."

Clancy smiles smugly. This one I am not happy about.

"Aspen Leger."

Aspen looks confused for the most part.

"Grayson Summers." I don't really know Grayson too well, but I guess we're on good terms.

The rest of us are waiting for America's last choice. Fingers are crossed, prayers are made, and then...

"Maxon Schreave."

I exhale a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," America says. "The limousine will drive you to the airport at eight o'clock. If you'd like to see me, I'll be in the library." More than a handful take that offer. The remaining who didn't make it to the Elite say their goodbyes. Some look miffed, some looked like they enjoyed the expression. I meet Ross and he shakes my hand.

"It was nice seeing you again," he says.

"Same here," I reply. "I guess I'll see you next time?"

"Yeah, and hopefully, it will be you as the prince who is gracing the party," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

I chuckle, and he leaves to pack his things.

It's about eight forty-five when America comes to my room. She was wearing a different dress this morning, as well as a different expression. I guess it's only custom that she changes from a short day dress into a long evening gown. Her eyes are glistening when she says, "Hi."

"Hi yourself," I reply, extending my hand. She takes it and leads us to the balcony. I turn to her and cup her cheek. "I want to thank you for keeping me here," I say.

"Of course, " she says, putting her hand over mine. "If anything you're the one I feel the most strongly about."

I smile, and she does too, but it still doesn't light up her face. "America, what's wrong?"

Her lip quivers, and I can see the tears that threaten to spill. "Maxon, I don't think I can tell you."

"Why not? Don't you trust me?"

She quickly puts a hand on my chest. "No, it's just...I _can't _tell you."

I brush her cheek with my hand. "My dear, you know you can tell me anything." I now know the severity of her unhappiness when she doesn't even scold me.

Suddenly, she puts her lips on mine. The kiss is hurried and desperate, and I can feel some of the weight on her shoulders shift on mine. Still, it feels good to kiss her. Her hand on my chest slides up to my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

I pull back and take a deep breath, the tip of my nose resting lightly on hers. "America," I breath. "As much as I enjoy kissing you, I hate to be kissed when you feel this way."

Then she starts crying, and I hold her to my chest. "Maxon," she says through choked sobs. "I'm such a horrible person. I hate myself so much."

"Shh, darling, you are not a horrible person. You are quite the opposite." I say, kissing the top of her head.

"You don't know what I've done." She sounds so horrified of herself that I can't help but kiss her hair again.

"Whatever you did must not be as horrible as you think."

"Maxon, I—"

A knock interrupts us, and I silently curse at the person on the other side of the door. I kiss America softly one last time before I whisper, "I'll finish this discussion with you in a moment." She nods and moves to remain unseen in the shadows.

I open the doors and find Quintin with a smile. "Hey, Maxon! The guys are in the Men's Parlor. We're having some drinks to celebrate being the Elite. Would you like to join us?"

I think about America. Would she want me to join them or would she want me to comfort her?

I simply reply with a smile. "I'll meet you down there. I have to do something first."

"Alright, see you there."

I close the door and hurry back to America. "I—"

"It's fine," she says, touching my cheek again. "You go celebrate. You deserve it."

"Well, when I'm down there, I'll make sure to make a toast to you." It coaxes a small smile out of her, and that's enough for me.

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

"Sir, you must wake up," Jessie says, gently shaking my arm.

I groan. "Can't I sleep in a few more minutes?"

"Sir, please, something has happened," says Maggie, her voice echoing. I'm assuming she's in the bathroom. I get up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The maids aren't their usual cheery selves in the morning. _Something has happened._

I get dressed silently, and the black suit seems more prominent now for some odd reason. My tie is a simple silver striped with dark blue. _Something has happened. What?_

"What's going on?" I ask as Valerie styles my hair. They provide me no answer.

"Go to the foyer. You'll meet the rest there."

When I meet the five guys, I notice they're all wearing the same simple ties and the same anxious expressions. "That's the last one," a guard says gruffly.

We start walking outside, and I give Maxon a nudge. "Do you know what's happening?"

He shakes his head, even though something in his eyes tells me that he knows a tiny bit about what's happening.

Lights flood the foyer, and for the first time since I've been here, the elaborate palace doors are wide open. An enormous crowd greets us, and the sound of their cheers is deafening.

A large platform is set up on the street, and it's surrounded by cameras and people getting ready to capture whatever's happening. The crowd continue to cheer for us, shouting our names. I still feel something's wrong, but I wave to them anyway, earning a louder shout.

We're led to a small section of stadium seats, and I sit next to Maxon. "What are those?" he asks, pointing to two odd structures on the platform. The first is a ladder-like mechanism in the shape of an _A_; the second is a big wooden block with loops on either end.

The crowd roars louder when the king, queen, and America emerges. The queen and America are both wearing black, somber dresses, and the worry settles for good. I need a sign from her that everything's okay. I wish she'd just look at me and mouth that everything's okay, but the picture in my head remains an imagination as she sits there with her jaw clenched tight. She looks like she's about to cry.

A few minutes later, the crowd's cheers turn into boos and shouts of contempt. I turn back to the platform and everything becomes so horrifying and confusing at the same time.

Carter is dragged in chains. His lip is bleeding, and his blue button-down is stained and covered in dirt. Then right behind him is a girl wearing his suit coat and a torn maid's uniform, looking as if she's wearing rags instead of actual clothes. I've seen her rush in and out of Carter's room. She's his maid.

What the hell is going on?

My hands grip the edge of my seat as a man in a mask begins to speak. "Carter Woodwork, one of the Selected, a Gentleman of Illéa, was found in an intimate position with this _girl_," he spits, "Marlee Tames, a member of the palace staff."

I'm breathing hard with so many feelings. The crowd boos again at the accusations. I would boo at this man.

"Sir Woodwork has broken his vow of loyalty to our princess America! And Miss Tames has essentially stolen property of the royal family through her relations with Sir Woodwork! These offenses are treason to the royal family!" His voice and tone is so tempting and convincing that they've done something wrong. And the crowd is agreeing.

Carter is one of the nicest guys here. I don't understand how anyone deserves this. For so many years, I've thought the royal family was pretentious and self-important. Only when I met America that that shred of hatred had diminished to a speck of dust. But it's returning, full-fledged and reinforced. I'm so angry all of a sudden.

Carter is now being strapped to the A-shaped frame by another masked man, his legs spread wide and his arms put into a position that mimics the structure. Padded belts are wrapped around his waist and legs, and I see as they tighten it that it's uncomfortable. Marlee is forced to kneel in front of the large wooden block as a man rips the coat from her back. Her wrists are bound down to the loops on either side, palms up. I can hear her cries from here, and it's so awful that we are here sitting in the front row as if this is a staged performance.

That's what the royal family is and every royal for that matter—a bunch of actors that play their part accordingly.

"This is a crime punishable by death!" the crier shouts again. "But, in her mercy, Princess America is going to spare these two traitors their lives. Long live Princess America!"

The crowd chants after the man, and I feel so sick inside that I allowed myself to start falling in love with her. I refuse to clap at all, to say any word. All I see are Carter and Marlee. "I love you, Marlee," Carter calls to her, the crowd already so loud that I can barely hear him. "We're going to be okay. It'll be okay, I promise."

The poor girl's so fear-stricken that all she can do is nod.

"Carter Woodwork, you are stripped of your castes. The same rule would apply to Marlee Tames, but she is already a Six." The crowd roars and jeers at that, mocking her for already being the lowest caste. "You are now both the lowest of the lows. You are Sixes!"

It hurts inside to know that I am the "lowest of the lows". I may be a Three now, but all I'm doing is wearing a fancy suit and donning a mask that doesn't belong to me.

"And to inflict upon you the shame and pain you have brought on His Majesty, you will be publicly caned with five strikes. You should be _thankful _that this is all the princess asked for. You deserve more." The crier spits at both of them. "May your scars remind you of your many sins!"

"Caned" and "thankful" do not belong with only six words in between.

The two masked men pull out long rods out of a bucket of water. The crowd become more delirious with this sick satisfaction. I grit my teeth as I sit here, forced to watch. Quintin has his head in his hands, looking down at his shiny black shoes. Jay looks like he wants to throw up. Even Clancy looks the slightest bit fearful. But Maxon...it strikes me how we're thinking the same way. He's looking at America, for an explanation, but when he doesn't get so much as a glance, he turns to me, his face hard and stoic.

How does he manage to look like that?

"One!" cries the man on the stage, and a sickening crack fills the empty air. I exhale a cry as Marlee lets out the most pitiful whimper, like a child that's had one of his toys taken away.

"Two!"

Enough, enough. It's enough. One is enough. My mind drifts back to when Jemmy was beaten at the square for stealing a loaf of bread. His back was in shreds, and so was his dignity.

But hearing this live, seeing it happen in the moment, makes me breathe fast. I lean forward and cover my eyes with the heels of my hand. All I hear now are the crowd's cries and Marlee's cries. I hear Carter grunt, and I can't believe that my own friend is up there suffering. I want to stop it, every ounce of my being makes me want to run to them, but I know I alone will not be able to stop it.

"Three!"

"Just...two more, Marlee," I hear Carter.

"Four!"

"Love...you," he stammers.

"Five!"

I look up and it's over.

"Six!"

That's not right. The crier said five! No, no, no.

Marlee wails in pain, and Carter howls as the cane digs deeper into his torn-up back. I'm breathing hard, trying to keep calm.

Then another scream erupts as we hear, "Seven!"

America's now standing up, crying. "No! You said five! No, Father, please," she begs.

The king's face is terrified, and I can only guess that these men were ordered by some other force to keep going.

"Eight!"

"Marlee! Marlee!" I hear Mer scream. Her black dress and her red hair is a stark contrast; but God, she is magnificent. My sudden hatred is short-lived and ebbs away to nothing.

She runs to the platform, and a guard grabs her. "Let go of her!" the king shouts. No one dares defy the king.

"That's enough!" the king booms, silencing everyone. I'm sure all of Angeles could hear this; Marlee's animal cries, Carter's rough grunts, America's screams of horror, the king's order.

Blood trickles down Carter's back, and it nauseates me. For once, I'm glad I didn't have breakfast this morning.

The crowd boos as the two men on the platform are grabbed by two other guards, while Marlee and Carter are led out by two other guards. I look for America, but she's gone.

* * *

**I got some lines from _The Elite _by Kiera Cass. This is a disclaimer, FYI. I have to be honest, the first time I read that in the book scared me a bit and disgusted me. But as I reread it again, I was just horrified. Just utterly horrified. **

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

**selectionprincess59- No problem! If you need any more clearing up, you know where to find me. Thanks!**

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**Kiren- Um...I don't know how to explain to you what a maid of honor is. Look it up? Sorry. And I was planning to keep Mallory, and I think Carson is perf! Thanks so much!**

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**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	14. Chapter 14

_Maxon's POV_

I follow America silently, being cautious that I don't make a sound. After the caning, I saw her leave immediately. I waited a few seconds, long enough not to arise any suspicion but still be able to track her bright red hair. That was so reckless of her to scream like that. I've never seen a braver woman. If that wasn't courage, I don't know what is.

America opens a small steel that you'd probably overlook it as a maintenance door. She enters a password at the keypad next to the door and rushes to get to inside. I stick out my foot between the door so it won't shut. I silently close it and catch enough of her red hair to follow her. The clack of her heels isn't giving her any stealthy advantages.

She turns a corner and the sound stops. I peek around the wall and have to force myself not to gasp. Two guards are there, and with them are Carter and Marlee. Carter's been cleaned up and his back is bandaged, as well as Marlee's hands. I know exactly how Carter feels. It's going to hurt like hell for a few days, but it eventually becomes something you get used to and all you feel is numbness.

"America, thank you so much," Marlee whispers.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Marls. I'm so sorry this happened."

"It was our fault, your highness," Carter says. "We wouldn't even be in this situation if we hadn't been reckless."

"Well, I can't say anything against that," America teases. The three laugh weakly at attempted humor. "I'm so sorry they hit you more than five times," America apologizes. "Whoever ordered that has hell to pay. My father is not pleased."

_King Shalom did look outraged, _I think. It was terrifying.

"I have your apartment all set and ready," America says. "Avery and Tanner are the best guards I know. I trust them with my life, so I hope you can allow them to trust them with yours."

_An apartment? _America is more rebellious than I thought.

"There's a nice kitchen, a small bathroom, but clean and functional, one bed...I hope you don't mind."

I hear Marlee giggle softly. "Not at all, Ames."

"Good," America replies happily. "Please be very discreet. The only ones who know about this is Avery, Tanner, and me. Neither my father nor my mother know at all."

"Ames, we'll be fine," Marlee assures. "We already thought about our names. I'm Mallory—"

"—and I'm Carson," Carter suggests.

"That's good. Carter, there's an open position in the stables waiting for you when you've recovered. Marlee, I suggest you be very quiet. The kitchen ladies don't know you very well, but the other maids might be able to recognize you."

"Don't worry," Marlee says. "I can handle it. Plus, the kitchen ladies are kind. I'm sure even if they recognize me, they won't turn me in."

"That's probably true."

I hear a quick rustle of movement and a muffled cry. "Thank you, America," Marlee says. "This means the world to me."

"Of course, Marlee. You're one of my best friends."

Another quick rustle and then a grunt of pain. "Carter, I'm so sorry about your back," America says.

I hear a weak laugh. "Well, at least no more cameras, right?"

"Right." There's utter silence, and I think for a moment they've vanished. "I will come find you guys the day before the Easter Ball. We'll do the ceremony then. But Marlee, there's one issue: I don't know who should give you away."

"I'll do it," a deep voice says.

"Really, Tanner?" Marlee says endearingly. "You don't have to do that."

"Marlee, you're like my little sister. It would be a pleasure," the guard replies. "Besides, I've only been to one wedding, and that's mine."

More relaxed laughs come out of them. "Well, I better let these two guys bring you to the apartment," America says. Another ruffle of clothing makes me assume they're hugging goodbye. "I'll see you two soon, okay?"

"Okay," Carter and Marlee reply in unison.

I feel like I've destroyed a magical thing, like my very presence revealed a secret. I guess it did. Another door shuts and a sigh is exhaled. The sound of her heels becomes louder as it approaches me and I move swiftly out the door. When America opens the door, I hide behind it to make sure she doesn't see me. I exhale when I'm sure she's not within earshot.

I go back inside the palace using the doors that lead to the balcony. If I had come straight from the caning back here, I would feel sort of empty inside. But knowing that America took care of them, and that they'll have a wedding, fills me with a happiness inside, and also dread. I have to protect this secret. I have to bottle it up, as well as America.

As I have my hand on the knob, someone says behind me, "Maxon?"

I turn and find America, still looking a bit disheveled but radiant all the same. I can see that she is trying so very hard to hold up the burdens on her delicate shoulders. I want to take them off her. I want to share burdens with her. The feeling of rapture and love encapsulates the very core of my being. I am so desperately in love with this girl.

"America," I say as calmly as I can. Her eyes are bloodshot and red from a while ago.

"Look, about this morning—"

"You needn't say anything about," I say, taking her hand. "What you did a while ago," I say, letting out a low whistle. "That was...amazing. You're amazing."

I look at her beautiful face, her cheeks looking like soft rose petals. "I was just so mad. I was horrified and mad at the same time."

"Who do you think ordered more hits?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Probably one of the advisers. They were giving me hell yesterday during the meeting."

"You knew since yesterday?" I ask, just surprised that she didn't help them escape before it even happened.

"Yes, please don't hold it against me," she says, as if reading my mind. "The country could be more broken apart if it didn't happen. They take offenses to my family and me as if they were the ones being personally offended."

"That's because you represent them. They think that because you stand for them, you and the people are one and the same."

"But isn't that the truth? I make one wrong move, the entire country is at fault."

My mind lingers on what she says for a moment. If I become king, I'll become responsible for what the country does, and the whole country will know what I do.

"I have to explain to the other guys," she says silently. "Can you see if any of them are inside the Men's Parlor?"

I nod and open the door, finding an empty room. "No one's in there."

"My father probably sent them upstairs to their rooms," she explains.

"I suppose." I take her hand and bring it to my lips. "I'll be tugging my ear. Whenever."

America allows a small smile and she leaves to check on the rest.

* * *

_America's POV_

I tell the shorter version of what I told Maxon. They all look forgiving, to say the least. When I reach Aspen's room, I'm a little more hesitant. Sixes were just called "the lowest of the lows". How would he feel? I certainly didn't give the crier his own speech. I'm sure my father is having a trial at this very moment.

As I knock on Aspen's door, I keep trying to think what he thinks of me. A monster? Or brave, like Maxon?

He opens the door and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Your highness," he says, slightly bowing. He's not using my first name. I'm sure I'm reading into this more than I should, but I'm sure he thinks so low of me now.

"May I come in?" I ask. He extends his arm and shuts the door behind me. "I'm so sorry about this morning. I know Carter was one of your closest friends."

"I understand your decisions, though, and I know that it could have been worse," he says, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the spot next to him. I sit down and sigh.

"I would have taken the lashes myself if I could," I say. I fiddle with my hands while I say, "Do you still want to be here? You must think so lowly of me. I'm sure you want to leave."

"Surprisingly, I don't want to leave," he says, his striking green eyes meeting mine. "I saw you screaming at them to stop a while ago. That shows your character."

"So you're not here for the food anymore?" I ask, glad to see a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Not so much anymore." He brings his hand to my face and pulls my lips to his. I just want to forget everything for a moment. I forget that we're in a stupid competition, I forget I'm a princess, I forget that a while ago ever happened. All I know is that I'm in Aspen's strong arms. He feels so safe and warm. But still, I can't help but compare him to Maxon. Aspen makes me feel like I've known him for my entire life. He makes me feel as if my existence is a gift to him in and of itself.

He slowly lowers me on the bed and traces my curves with his sturdy hands. It feels so new and so familiar at the same time. But there are five other men in this palace vying for my heart. "Aspen," I whisper, pulling back. "We have to stop."

Aspen nods, his nose brushing against mine. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I say quickly. "It's not your fault. It's just...it feels weird knowing there are five other guys here."

"I _completely_ understand," he says jokingly.

I laugh a bit. "I'm so confused about my feelings," I say quietly. "I'm so torn up between you and..."

"Maxon?" he finishes for me. My lack of an answer is enough for him. "Mer, I know he's a Two and that I'm a nobody Six, but I have faith in your decisions. You're going to make a fantastic queen either way."

I smile and touch my lips to his. "Thank you," I say after pulling away.

"Any time. Just be yourself. I don't want a fake to rule the country. The country will only be as real as the people ruling it." He stops for a while, and I can see a question forming at his lips.

"What is it?" I ask.

"If Maxon and I are here because you want us to be," he asks, pausing to think how to word this. "Why are the four others here?"

"Well, Jay has plenty of connections and family in New Asia. Clancy knows the tricks of the trade, and he may be a tiny bit manipulative, but that's a political advantage. Plus, he's hot." I laugh at myself and Aspen scoffs jokingly. "The advisers like Quintin because he's compliant and nice. He'd look good on a postage stamp, they said, but not the way Clancy would look good. And Grayson Summers fills the spot of six men. The advisers thought five was too few."

He pauses to let that sink in. "I feel like if I wasn't starving and you didn't like me, I wouldn't still be here."

"Oh, Aspen," I say, touching his arm. He certainly filled out since the beginning of the competition, but not in a bad way. I'm wondering if he uses the training room at all. He's no longer skinny. He's lean and so strong, physically and mentally. "Don't think I pity you. I like you for you."

"I know Maxon and I are sort of tied right now, but I want to know if..." He doesn't quite know how to end his sentence, but I think I know what he's trying to say.

"I haven't forgotten about you, okay?" I say. "You're there, but you might have to share the spot for a while."

He kisses me, making me feel light-headed. "That's enough for me."

* * *

**Whew. That was an Asperica-fille chappie, wasn't it? Love me, hate me, idk how you guys are feeling.**

**I got some parts from _The Elite. _I don't own the ingenuity of it all, and I owe it to Kiera Cass. She's brilliant.**

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**ilona18- Thank you soooo much for pointing that out! I added Grayson Summers into the mix, and FYI, he was originally there. Thank you so much! (You really saved my ass.)**

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**heavenjm- LOVING?! Awwww thank you!**

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**The Devil Wears Westwood- GASP! The queen?! That's so evil and diabolical and...genius. Huh. It could be the queen :) Maybe you should be writing this story :P And sorry this wasn't too much Maxerica. Thank you, though, for still reading this!**

**Demigod-Gallagher-Witch-Girl- Love your username btw. I'm so glad you love it! And that second sentence is so touching. Thank you so much!**

**Guest- ...I'm not sure what you mean. Maxon is still a Two, Aspen is now a Three...? Oh, well. Thanks though!**

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**Luxster- America's dad is still Shalom. The parents are still the same because that would change the characters' personalities A LOT! I didn't want America to be exactly Maxon and Maxon exactly America, personality-wise. Thank you for reviewing!**

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**Love ya!- AcademicGirl **


	15. Chapter 15

_Aspen's POV_

"As the Elite, you six will have to learn how to approach foreign dignitaries," says Silvia on one dreary, rainy Monday morning. "There will be two receptions later in the week. The French will be here next Monday, and the Italians next Tuesday. They are already two of our closest allies, so you needn't talk about Illéa. However, you will need to make a good impression. The French and Italian princesses are Princess America's best friends. They will definitely influence her decision. And most importantly, your impression on them will affect the alliances. If you are king and they do not like..." Silvia finishes her sentence and clicks her tongue. "Is that clear?"

"Yes," we chorus back. Very clear. This could be something that sends any of us home. I'm confident about my standings with America, but I can't let this political night-long schmooze kick me out of the palace—and America's heart for that matter.

"Very good," Silvia says promptly. "Also, there will be a photo shoot later this afternoon. It's for the magazines, newspapers, whatever you can think of. This is for the country to see how you look beside the princess. A picture says a thousand words, so I expect your words to be good and tasteful."

Clancy smiles like he has this in the bag. Of course. He's a model, the most qualified of us here. As we start to listen to a lengthy lecture on—oh, look at that—Illéan history, I zone out. I'm having a bit of a hard time keeping up, but Silvia says that I "must learn if there is ever a way I'm going to be king!"

"Also, gentlemen, there is the annual Easter Ball in a few weeks," Silvia announces as we stand up to leave. "I'll receive more information from the princess herself and relay the message to you."

We file out of the Men's Parlor after about an hour for lunch. It still shocks me how empty the Dining Hall looks with just the six of us. You'd think that three weeks after the caning would do us some good and help us "bond" more, but as it turns out, everyone's more wary than ever. Quintin is so sure that Clancy's banging all three of his maids. Clancy thinks Maxon's father paid for his son to be here. Maxon thinks Grayson has a secret strategy that we don't know about. Grayson thinks I got to third base with America, which is apparently the only reason I'm here. As for what I think of everybody else, I just know they are all more qualified to be king. If this was simply a competition for America's heart, the runner-ups would be as clear as an unclouded sky.

Sometimes I think this is just a competition between Maxon and me. The three other guys are just obstacles and hurdles on the way to getting what we want, and it's not the crown.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

"Smile!"

If I didn't have a passion for photography, the lights would be bothersome and blinding. But as it is, the flash is there for a reason to compliment the subject.

"Sir Maxon, you're up!" the photographer calls. I'd rather be the photographer than the photograph. There's a certain way being behind a camera makes me feel. I have the freedom to choose whatever I want, and I'm in charge. Psychologically, I think it's because my father never gave me much decisions in my life. He's the puppeteer, and I'm his marionette.

When I reach America, her smile brightens a bit. "Good afternoon, Sir Maxon," she says, curtsying.

"Hello to you too, my dear," I reply, kissing the back of her hand. And there's the first picture already. I shoot up quickly, surprised that the picture was taken so quickly.

"Maxon, relax," America says calmly. "Just pose and smile and you'll do great." She fixes the decorative badges on my chest, and I'm grateful that I'm not the only one wearing them. "You men and your medals. You ought to be hanging in the chandeliers," she jokes.

"Well, then you belong in a cream-colored sky where everything is smooth and pure." I'm trying my best to charm her, and so far it's working. She straightens her cream dress and tucks a hair behind her ear.

"Okay, your highness, Sir, please turn to me," the photographer orders.

We start with my arm around her waist and her hand on my chest. She's squirming a bit, and I whisper, "What's wrong?"

"The other guys are staring at us."

"So what?" I ask, confused but still trying to maintain a smile. "You did it with Clancy a while ago and you seemed fine."

"It's different," she mutters. "They're staring at us like they...I don't know how to explain it."

"Oh, come on. They're just jealous."

The cameraman orders us to pose again, and this time America huffs. "I can't do this. Not with them staring like that."

"Hey," I say softly, gently turning her face to mine. "Just pretend that you can't stand to see me."

It coaxes a genuine smile out of it, albeit small and timid. "Who said I'd have to pretend?" she says, smirking.

"That's perfect!" the photographer says. "Mr. Schreave, could you turn just so...perfect. Your highness, put your hands over his...excellent."

America's back is against my chest, and my arms are wrapped around her with her soft, small hands over mine. A warm feeling fills my heart, and I'm sure she can feel it beating hard and fast. She cranes her neck a bit to look at me, and her nose is millimeters away from mine. It frightens how much I want to kiss her, but I know I can't. We look into each other's eyes with small smiles, and I'm sure she's thinking the same thing.

"Brilliant," the photographer says, rupturing our bubble. "Okay, a few more shots on the lounge over there."

It takes a few moments for that to register in my head. Great, this girl is already turning me into a puddle of stupid. I'm surprised to be sad when the pictorial is over. I catch America's eye and she tugs her ear. I gladly tug mine back.

* * *

_America's POV_

I knock on Maxon's door, and he opens it in a heartbeat. "Hey," I breathe. He has his suit coat off and his button-down is adorably untucked.

"Hi," he says.

"Do you want to take a walk in the gardens?" I blurt.

He nods and says, "Give me one second. Here, come in first." I close the door behind me, and Maxon rushes to the bathroom. However, he thinks the door is shut when in fact it is open a crack. I laugh to myself and creep up to the sliver of space, putting my eye close enough to see the mirror and his reflection.

Maxon brushes his teeth and I want to giggle at how dorky he's being. Then he unbuckles his belt to tuck his shirt in, and my reasonable half and hormonal girl half are arguing to look or not look.

But it's too tempting to look away.

Those abs...I've seen sculptures. We have hundreds in the palace. But none of them compare to Maxon Schreave. His chest is as sculpted as any work of art.

He finishes tucking in his shirt and approaches the door. My eyes widen, and in my haste to get away from the door as quickly as possible, I trip on my dress. I land on my butt with the gracefulness of a toddler. I feel so stupid right now. The already-bright blush on my cheeks from seeing Maxon bursts into a full-blown fire of humiliation.

Maxon opens the door and looks down at me. He frowns a bit and shows a confused smile. "Um, America, what are you doing?"

"I, uh, you know," I stammer. "I was admiring the, uh, carpet. It's very...lush and carpet-y."

Maxon chuckles, and I stand awkwardly. "You ready to go?" he asks, still with an amused grin on his face.

"Yes," I say quickly. I take his arm, and it only makes my face warm more. I can feel the strong muscle beneath his sleeves. Can't he roll them up?

Ugh, I feel like such a sneak! I crept up on him like I had every right to. I can't believe I did that! Maxon would probably never sneak around me. He doesn't look like that kind of person who would eavesdrop or spy. I feel horrible. And like a pervert. I want to smack myself, but then I remember how attractive he looked, and the shame leaves me like air out of a balloon.

"America, what are you thinking about?" he asks, holding the door open for me. "Were you thinking about food? You were drooling a bit." Maxon says it apologetically, like he's ashamed he noticed.

My eyes widen at his mention of drooling. I touch my mouth, and he laughs. It's so adorable how he laughs. It would be unattractive coming out of anyone's mouth, but it's so utterly and wholly Maxon. "I was just joking, my dear," he says. "You just looked a bit distracted, and you might have as well been thinking about food."

"Oh...Yeah, sorry about being distracted. I...um...lovely weather we're having!" I exclaim. The air is cool and the grass is wet from the rain this morning.

"Yeah, but it's supposed to continue raining any minute now."

"Ah, the weather. The only thing more unpredictable than humans," he replies, and I can tell I'm supposed to get something between the lines.

"What do you mean?" I ask, walking past our bench to a little space between these tall hedges. I don't want anyone to see us right now.

Maxon stops walking and turns to me. He takes my hands and look at me earnestly. "I mean you. You're nothing I expected." Does he know? Does he think I'm a pervert?

"I still don't quite understand."

He hesitates, conflicting emotions running in his chocolate brown eyes. "I saw you after the caning. I saw you with Marlee and Carter and...you know."

I swallow a lump in my throat. "Please don't tell anyone," I plead. "If anyone else finds out, I'll be dead. They'll kick me off the throne and give it to my cousin, August, and—"

He cuts my rant off with a heady kiss. He pulls back to look at me. "First of all, I've wanted to do that for a _very _long time. Second of all, I won't tell anyone. That is so brave of you. I don't think I'd be able to do what you did."

"I bet you would, Maxon," I whisper.

"I promise to guard this with my life. I'll pretend like I don't know anything about them. I'll call them Mallory or Carson, and—"

It's my turn to cut him off with a kiss. "You talk too much." He smiles shyly, and rests his forehead against mine. "Maxon," I say after a while. "Officer Tanner's going to have to be on duty during Marlee and Carter's wedding, and I don't really know who else to ask to give Marlee away. I mean, she's my best friend and I know you were friends with Carter so..."

"I'd love to," he says. I breathe a sigh of relief. "Where should I meet you for it?"

"I'll tug my ear during breakfast, and I'll take you there. Dress casually, because we're technically sneaking out."

"As long as I'm with you, I'm good." I smile and he presses his lips to mine.

As we kiss beneath the clouded sky, I feel a raindrop on my cheek. The single drop turns into a million, and we're drenched. We laugh, and he says, his lips brushing my ear ever so slightly, "Do you want to dance?"

I nod with a small smile. "But I'm awful."

"Really?" he asks, surprised, but taking my hand and putting his on my waist. "I'd expect a beautiful princess to know how to dance."

"Well, that's not the case!" I say, raising my voice a bit to be heard over the rain.

He chuckles and pulls me close. "We'll go slow."

It surprises me all of a sudden that a month has already passed since the beginning of the Selection. So much has happened already. Six guys are remaining, when in truth, when in my heart, there are only two who are really standing out.

Maxon and I sway to the rhythm of the shattering rain. I put my cheek on his chest, and he rests his chin on my head. A million thoughts are racing through my head. I feel so guilty and awful and ecstatic that I am dancing with this amazing man when I cannot promise him anything yet. I feel like I'm cheating, but I decide that thinking about the Selection isn't the wisest thing to do.

As he tightens his grip on me, I feel like Maxon and I have a rope of trust that will never fray. We are friends who can't bear to be apart. We are each other's opposites, yet still so very similar.

I raise my face to Maxon's, placing a hand on his cheek, and pull him down for a kiss. His lips wet, his breath warm and minty, make me feel euphoric. I feel both his hands wrap around my back, holding me to him as if he would fall apart otherwise.

And so solidly, so suddenly, as if a car just fell from the sky, it hits me: I love Maxon Schreave.

Those words are the only ones in my mind. Until...I remember Aspen. Didn't I say I loved him too? How is it possible that I can love two guys, who are so different entirely, at the same time, with the same amount?

They both make me feel special, like I'm worth it to them. Aspen makes me feel like a delicate flower who deserved care and protection. Maxon treats me as if I'm the hero, as if I'm strong enough to handle myself and the entire world.

Only questions without answers remain in my head: Maxon or Aspen? A hero or a damsel?

* * *

**Whew. Well. Disclaimer: I don't own the lines from _The One. _They all go to Kiera Cass. (Also, I was rereading the rain scene, and I have to admit I swooned. Pardon my fangirlyness.) So here's that Maxerica chappie :) **

**Thanks for the reviews! (Wait, a hundred? When did that happen?! You guys are da best!)**

**fantasybookgirl- I feel like that's what would have happened after the caning. Thank you so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- And when you say America/Clancy, do you mean you want him to be a man-whore kind of person? :P And what do you mean you keep irritating your reviewers? I'm sure you're fine :) Thank you!**

**Someone The World Forgot/Kiren- Aww your pen name is so poetic. And you don't like romance? I'm sorry. There's a lot of that in my stories :-/ Do you want me to lessen the romance then? And you got the counterparts right! Thanks so much! (P.S. I was going to use something to make Maxon end up giving Marlee away, but thanks for reminding me!)**

**agb1700- Thank you so much! Lurve ya!**

**krriordan- Heehee I'm Maxerica too. It's okay. And twice a day? Aw, I feel so loved :P Thank you!**

**winterprincess- This chapter gets some major Maxerica points! Luspen may or may not happen... Thanks so much!**

**perseuseaton816- Aw I'm glad you love it! And genius? Stop it. :) And I do know what you mean. Those things may or may not happen. You should probably stick around ;-) Thank you so much!**

**ilona18- Haha until Aspen screws up. That gives me so many devious plot twists :) Thanks!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- Whoa. I write Asperica better than the books? Can I like give you a hug right now? No, that would be awkward in any situation. But thank you so much! This review really made my day.**

**4Love4Love4- THANK YOU! And of course Maxerica is destined. It happened in the books :P BUT it doesn't mean it will be Maxerica here ;-) Thanks again!**

**SJWrites2014- Haha lol. They'll control the rat with cheese. Duh. Jk I'm such a loser. Thank you!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	16. Chapter 16

_Aspen's POV_

_Dear Aspen,_

_Your siblings and I can't thank you enough for being in the Selection. The money has helped so much. Celia and Kamber are doing their drama club again, and they're going to be in a production in the summer! Hopefully, you'll be home by then. I know your intentions well enough to understand you don't want to be the prince. But I can tell that you have developed feelings for the princess. I can see by the way you look at her during the _Report. _Just listen to your heart, son. We're rooting for you!_

_Love,  
Mom, Celia, Kamber, and Jemmy _

This letter is a first. We don't usually send letters because we can only afford so much paper, stamps, pens. I understand why Mom is the only one that wrote. I have bigger things to attend to anyway.

I tuck the letter in my suit coat and get ready for the French reception tonight. I have to make a terribly good impression. I don't know what my approach should be to the French princess. Should I try and charm her to know I'm capable of charming America? Or would she think I'm a flirt and a cheater? I can't imagine how she would judge the lot of us. I guess I'll try the oldest trick in the book: Don't speak unless spoken to.

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

The music drifts from the Great Room to the halls. I'm wearing a suit and a green tie. I've never been incredibly vain, but I have to admit, the palace is increasing my narcissism.

"Hello, Aspen," Jay greets, walking down the stairs with me.

"Hi, Jay," I reply. The two of us aren't that close, but he's a good fellow. He just exudes refinement and propriety, and I can't help but feel more like a Six around him. "Is it just me, or is this thing entirely nerve-wracking?"

Jay shrugs. "They are just foreign dignitaries. Nothing to worry about as long as you say and do the right things."

My pride makes me frown and shrug nonchalantly as well. "Right, of course. I meant nerve-wracking in the sense that we'd have to look good with the princess."

"I suppose so," he says.

We enter the Great Room, and it's a glittering affair. Everyone is standing straight, the music is classical and proper, the chandelier's look a bit more polished. America looks stunning, as usual. She's talking to another girl, a tall, willowy girl with a sparkling tiara atop her blond hair. America catches my eye and she smiles, beckoning me over.

I excuse myself from Jay silently, but he has already joined Grayson and Maxon. I bow to America and her friend. "Good evening, Your Majesties," I say, kissing the backs of both of their hands. The girls smile.

"Sir Aspen, meet one of my best friends, Princess Daphne of France," America says.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I say smoothly.

"The pleasure is all mine," Daphne replies with a thick French accent. "America has been telling me so much about you."

"I hope all good things," I say, casting a sidelong glance to America, who is slightly blushing.

"Oh, certainly," Daphne says. "Excuse me, but I have to, uh, meet the other Selected." The princess leaves me with America.

"Aren't you a sight to see," I say taking America's hand.

She smiles. "You as well, Sir Aspen. The green tie brings out your eyes."

"And your blue dress brings out yours." I nod to the dance floor. "Would you like to dance?"

"I'm terrible at it," she says, laughing.

We dance for a while, and by the time the song ends, she has stepped on my feet about six or seven times. "I'm sorry, Mer, but you're terrible," I say, chuckling even though her sharp high heel makes my toe feel like flattened dough.

"I know, I know," she says breathlessly, laughing along with me. "Do you want to get something to eat instead? I could get you some ice too, if you'd like."

"No, it's fine. And I would love some food. You do know me quite well."

America laughs, and I'm glad to see her just happy. We eat some, but Maxon asks her to dance after a matter of a few minutes. She nods, and says to me, "Thanks for dancing with me, Aspen."

"No problem," I answer, but she's already being dragged away from me. The two look completely smitten, completely in love as they look into each other's eyes.

I know I'm a goner.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

"How have you been, my dear?" I ask her as we dance slowly. "I haven't seen you in a while."

She sighs. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, but the advisers keep pushing me to make another elimination. They're saying Quintin should be the one next. I don't really have another reason to simply keep him here. He said he really liked me, but I think it was false words to keep his ass in the competition."

I chuckle. "Is that what you think whenever I tell you my feelings for you?"

She smirks. "No, I can tell when someone is lying."

"Oh, really?" I jest.

"Definitely. I'm very good at reading people." She looks around the room and gestures to a lady wearing an atrocious orange dress. "Do you see that woman?"

"It would be like not noticing the sun."

She grins. "That is Duchess Rowena. I haven't spoken much to her, which makes her the perfect example." America observes the duchess for quite some time, and then she turns back to me. "She just said to the plump man that she gave birth to a moose."

I laugh, making some of the others turn their heads to me. "Oh, yes, you are quite the lip-reader."

She laughs along with me. "I told you so." We're quiet for a while as we dance another song. "Have you talked to Daphne yet?" she asks.

"Yes, I have." Coincidentally, my childhood friend is named Daphne. The princess and the girl my father detests are quite different. Daphne Beaumont can't sing to save her life. Princess Daphne has sung some duets with America, as she has told me. Daphne Beaumont has brown hair. Princess Daphne is blond. Daphne Beaumont is spiteful against me because I joined the Selection when she said she loves me and that I felt the same way. Princess Daphne is happy I'm here vying for the heart of her best friend.

"I saw you dancing with her," America says, and I detect a different feeling in her voice.

"Are you jealous?" I tease.

Her cheeks blush red. "Absolutely not!" she says a bit too loudly, gathering the attention from more people.

"America, we were just dancing," I say, quickly kissing her forehead. "I like you, and not her." I catch myself in time. I almost said I_ love_ her. But I can't say it. Not yet.

"Promise?"

"I promise. Let me make it up to you. Let _me _take you out some time."

Her face brightens up a bit, but she still smiles coyly. "The rules are that the Selected cannot arrange their own times with the princess."

I raise my eyes to the ceiling, as if to say _Oh, that's right. _"Ah, well, I guess you're not getting another date with me."

She giggles. "Maxon, I'm kidding. I'd love to go out with you."

"Then let me arrange everything."

The second song ends, and America curtsies. I'm upset I don't get to dance with her anymore when she says, "I'm sorry. I have to dance with the other guys so I don't look like I'm choosing favorites."

I smile and kiss the back of her hand. "That's fine, my dear."

She smirks and walks away.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see a smiling princess. "Princess Daphne," I say, bowing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What was that I saw with America?"

I try to act naive. "I was dancing with her? I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"Oh, yes, you do!" the princess says with a knowing grin. "You know it too. You two were dancing like you were the only two in the room."

I chuckle, remembering what America said about Duchess Rowena. "That's quite an assumption to be made, your highness."

"Well, assumption or not, I know _amour _when I see it. You do love her, do you not?"

I hesitate. I refuse to tell someone else my feelings before I tell them to America herself. "I certainly admire her," I reply. "She's kind and brave and beautiful."

"So you do like her?" the princess urges.

"I like her."

"Okay, well, Sir Maxon, I approve of you. Just remember that if you break her heart, I'm going to break every bone in your body. _Au revoir!_"

She approaches Clancy next, who looks more than eager to dance with the blond vixen. I have to admit she's beautiful, but not quite like America. She's dancing with Aspen again, and she looks into his eyes the same way she must have looked into mine. It's either the Selection is just really between two people or America is a very convincing person.

* * *

**I'm sorry I haven't been updating this lately! I was watching the Harry Potter marathon on ABC Family. You can't blame a Potterhead, right?**

**Maxerica or Asperica?  
Plot twist: It's neither Maxerica nor Asperica...IT'S GOING TO BE A REALLY HOT THREESOME. JUST KIDDING!  
Why am I so dirty-minded? I hate myself.**

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

**fantasybookgirl- I'm so very glad you're enjoying it! Thank you so much for taking a chance on my story!**

**Kiren- Haha I'm sorry this was more romantic than action. Thank you for still reading!**

**je suis la fille en feu- Ack I meant "Should I be a hero or a damsel?". I wouldn't refer to Aspen as a damsel! Sorry for the confusion! Thank you!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Haha I'm excited to write the man-whoreness that is Clancy :P And I'm so happy you liked that chapter! Thanks so much!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- Thank you so much! I'm glad you love it!**

**ilona18- I'm glad you enjoy reading my version of America. To be honest, I don't think I can write her to be that infuriating. Thanks so much!**

**4Love4Love4- Well, I hope you still read my story :) Thank you!**

**krriordan- I hope this chapter was exciting...? I know it wasn't really. This chapter took me a while to write because I'm not entirely sure how Aspen thinks anymore. Sigh. The struggles of being a fanfic writer. Thank you so much!**

**flowergirl123456- I don't know...is it going to be Maxon? Thanks for reviewing!**

**bOOkSrULE- Lol, love your username and the random capital letters. And aww! Thank you so much! But what if I'm already an author and I'm just pretending? Just kidding. Maybe. Thanks again!**

**SJWrites2014- Glad you enjoyed! Thanks so much!**

**winterprincess- When will she tell him? Good question. Thanks for reviewing!**

**theoneforever- It's totally fine! I'm glad you're still reviewing :) Thank you so much!**

**The Snimster- Awww thank you! (Question: Where do you live?) It's kind of hot in my house too and I read this and I was like "AWWW THAT'S SO NICE!" And wow, that drink sounds...interesting. And um, when you said that I made you like the Aspen in the books more...That's what you meant right? You like the Aspen in the books better now because of my story? Sorry, I'm a bit confused. But thank you so much! I hope I did get you out of ship depression!**

**Book addict 112- Ah, moms and their issues with electronics :P Thanks for still reviewing, though! And that is so flattering! Thank you so much!**

**lilythemermaid- BAEEE I missed you tooo! I totally thought for a moment you forgot about me then I was like "Oh, yeah, she's in Paris. Duh." Haha your roommates. It sounds hilarious and super fun. ILY so much! I can't wait to talk to you again :) LALALOL**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl **


	17. Chapter 17

**Guys, I'm pissed at myself. Again. Actually, no, I'm pissed at my crappy wifi. So I was done with this chapter, it had like 3,000 words I swear, then I save it, and BAM THE CHAPTER WAS NOT SAVED AND I'M BACK TO FRICKING 776 WORDS AND AJHAERIJOJJ4JA. **

**So I won't answer the reviews tonight. But I loved every review, and I read all of them every morning, I promise. Thank you so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**

_America's POV_

"Ames, I heard from Princess Daphne that you had a favorite boy," Lucy says giddily as she does my makeup for the Italian reception tonight.

I roll my eyes. "Lucy, of course that's what Daphne would say. Come on, she's Daphne!"

"Hey," Daphne says from my bed. "I'm still here."

Lucy laughs. "Princess Daphne, red lipstick or more of a softer red?"

"Hmm," Daphne says, trying to decide. Seriously, I don't see the difference. They're literally the same shade. "I like the softer red. That way her hair will still look brighter."

"So," Mary calls from my closet. "Who's that favorite boy?"

"Maxon Schreave," Daphne says, wiggling her eyebrows. "He is charming, America. I like him too. He's good for you."

"Well, let's see what Nikki will think," I say, reminding them that Nicoletta's opinion matters as much as Daphne's.

"I'm sure she will like Maxon as well," Daphne replies. She's like that sometimes; she thinks she knows what another person will say or do. Most of the time she's right, and I'm sure she's right about Nikki's liking to Maxon. They're usually on the same side with everything.

"What makes you like him so?" Anne asks, pinning my hair up.

"Who?" I ask. "Me or Daphne?"

"Both."

"Daph, you can go first," I say quickly.

She sticks out her tongue, and then lies on my bed so her head dangles over the edge. "Well, he is handsome, that's for sure. His father is a powerful politician, so I've heard, and that is definitely an advantage. I don't know. He's kind, and I can tell that when he looks at you, America, that he loves you."

I wrinkle my nose. "I wouldn't say he loves me."

"Oh, you are always like that," Daphne says. "Well, I better get ready as well. Just keep your heart open, Ames." She leaves my room with a smile on her face.

"America, who do you like more?" Lucy asks, putting some blush on my face. "That green-eyed fellow, Aspen, or Maxon Schreave?"

"Luce, you know I can't pick favorites so early on in the competition," I simply reply.

"America, we all know you favor Sir Maxon and Sir Aspen more than the others," Mary says. "Who do you like more?"

I sigh. "I don't know. I like them both for different reasons."

"How about Clancy Newman?" Anne says, with a small smirk.

The girls look at each other and fan themselves. We all giggle and Lucy says, "He's hot, America. There's no denying that."

Our laughter eventually dies down. "I know," I admit. "But I'd like a conversation with a man. You know, a real one that goes deeper than 'What's your favorite movie?' or 'What's your favorite food?'"

"That man has a favorite food?" Mary exclaims. "It's like he doesn't eat at all!"

That brings us to giggles again. "Clancy looks a bit manipulative, though," Anne says. "He could hurt you, America."

"He'd be a good negotiator with countries," I say, not meaning to defend him entirely. But I feel like I need to cut him some slack.

"What about Sir Grayson?" Anne asks. "He looks nice, and he's handsome too."

"Anne, they're all handsome," Mary quips.

"Well, he's intelligent," I say. "We always have these conversations that go beyond philosophy and physics."

"Do you find him boring?" Lucy asks, finishing my makeup just as Anne pins up the last strand.

"Not at all," I say. "He's actually quite fascinating, and he looks at me like I'm something worth looking at."

"So you do like him?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind him being my husband, if that's what you mean. Grayson would make a good battle strategist. He always seems one step ahead of everything."

Lucy brings me to my dress, a festive turquoise color that fits my figure. "So that leaves Sir Quintin," Lucy says, helping me into the dress.

"Yeah, I guess. I was planning on eliminating him tonight."

"After the reception?" Mary says, zipping me up.

"Duh," Lucy says. "So he can eat before he hits the road."

We burst out laughing, and I put on my songbird necklace and my tiara. "America, your shoes."

I rush to get them. "I was actually meaning to leave them behind. I kept stepping on Aspen's feet last night."

The three of them laugh, and I call out, "Thanks!"

Even in the hallway, I can hear the lively fiddle playing. It's always a party when the Italians are here. I walk through the doorway, and I see Daphne talking to Nicoletta. As soon as Nikki sees me, she runs to me to give me a hug.

"America! I have not seen you in forever!" She kisses both my cheeks, as is our custom.

"Nikki, you literally saw me for my birthday, and that was about a month ago."

"But it seemed so long since we were together! And now Daphne is here too!" Nikki swings an arm around Daphne's and my shoulders. "The Three Musketeers are back!"

We giggle together, and I have to agree that it feels like I haven't seen them since forever. "So, America," Nikki starts, "Daphne was telling me about the boys."

"Oh!" Daphne says, as if she forgot about it. "That's right. I told her whom to look out for."

I laugh. "Hey, Nikki, where are your—"

"America!" two voices squeal.

I turn around and grin. "Noemi! Orabella!" Nicoletta's cousins encase me in a tight hug.

"We have not seen you in so long, America!" Orabella says. If Nicoletta is my sister, then her cousins are practically mine.

"I know," I agree. "Too busy." I pretend to faint at the mention of politics.

They laugh. "So, how is the Selection?" Noemi asks. "Are the boys being nice?"

"Oh, yes, very kind and very gentlemanly."

"We know whom you like best," Orabella says gaily.

"Here they are now!" Nikki squeals.

I shush them. "Girls, pretend like we're talking about shoes."

"Oh, my goodness, did you see those stilettos she was wearing?" Daphne quickly says. "They were _so _last season."

"I know," we all say in unison, as if those stilettos are truly horrible.

"Oh, my God, look at _that _one," Nikki says, breaking out of character. "The one with the green eyes."

"Aspen?" I ask, confirming it. When Nikki swoons, I look pointedly at Daphne. "Told you so."

Daphne snickers. "Nic, look at that handsome one with the honey blond hair and the chocolate brown eyes."

"Daph, I think you're hungry," I joke.

"I'm serious! He is...how would you say it? Eye-candy." Daphne nudges me. "I could eat him up."

"Daphne!" I cry.

"Shh!" Noemi says. "One of them's coming."

I turn around, and I have to admit I'm a bit disappointed when it's not Maxon or Aspen.

"Your Majesties," Grayson says, bowing to all of us.

"Sir Grayson," I say. "What may I do for you?"

"Would you like to dance?"

"Sure." He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. "You didn't really have to," I say. "I'm awful at dancing."

"Well, if my foot gets stepped on, it would be a privilege to be stepped on by you."

I smirk, despite how endearing I find his words. "Charming," I tease.

"America, I know I'm not the top competitor, in your heart or in the public's polls, but I want you to know that I'm here for you and that I geniuinely care for you."

I smile, a blush stealing my cheeks. "Thank you, Grayson. That's very kind of you."

He smiles like he's won a race. Grayson bows to me, and Clancy is the next one to offer a dance. "Good evening, your highness," he says, his voice low and tempting.

"Hello yourself, Clancy."

"My, my, you look absolutely ravishing tonight," he says, twirling me, only to pull me back close.

"You clean up nicely yourself."

He lowers his mouth to my ear. "How will I ever make you fall in love with me, America?"

"Would you like to go horseback riding with me?" I say, sounding a bit choked. "Then we could watch a movie afterwards, if you'd like."

My face is hot when Clancy's lips brush my ear, saying, "Absolutely."

I'm glad when the song is over. I can't quite explain how I feel when I'm around Clancy. He makes me feel like a rich goddess that is entitled to everything in the world. It's a bit similar to the way Maxon and Aspen make me feel, like I'm important and worthy of every bit of attention, but there's just something different with my relationship with Clancy.

I go back to Noemi and Orabella who are talking with champagne in their hands. "America, darling!" they say.

"My goodness, what happened to you?" Noemi says.

"You look redder than a ripe tomato," Orabella says.

"Was it that Clancy fellow?"

"I told you he was hot."

I laugh. "Enough! You're making me more embarrassed than I feel." I breathe deeply. "Okay, do I look better?"

"Yes, your foundation covers enough of your blush. Here comes another one."

Quintin asks me to dance, and I figure now is a good time to eliminate him. I'm wondering why Aspen or Maxon haven't asked me to dance yet. As I try to form a sentence to let Quintin down softly, he says, "Your highness, I need to tell you something."

"Of course," I say, stalling.

"America, my time here at the palace was indescribable with you. But I feel like we have no future together, and I know you know that too." I blink, shocked at his frank words. Here I was, trying to find a way to eliminate him, but he's the one telling me he wants to go home.

"Um, yeah. Okay," I say, still surprised. "Do you need to pack?"

"I've already taken care of that," Quintin replies, smiling sadly.

"Do you want me to walk you out?"

"That would be nice. Thank you."

I call for a limousine as I wait for him in the foyer. Quintin walks down with his duffel bag in hand. I walk outside with him, crossing my arms when I meet the crisp air. "Your highness, I wish you every bit of luck," he says kindly.

"Thank you, Quintin."

He enters the car, but before he closes the door, he says, "You'll make a fantastic queen."

I wave goodbye as the car drives away.

I go back inside when I hear hushed whispers to the right. I take off my heels and tiptoe to the hall. My eyes widen with fear and surprise. Daphne has her hand on Maxon's shoulder. Both talk intently to each other, and I gasp, but they are too lost within each other to notice me.

That's it. I am so done. I walk away and put on my heels. I can't believe I allowed myself to fall in love with him! I feel so stupid and betrayed and idiotic. _How could you be so stupid, America? _How naive have I been? The whole time I thought the guys would never betray me, that I would be the ones eliminating and breaking their hearts. But my world seems to be upside-down, and it feels like they have been the judges the entire time.

Aspen.

Aspen will comfort me. He has always been my hero. Yes, I have to forget about Maxon.

But when I enter the doorway, I can see him talking to Nicoletta, both looking as if they're the only people in the world. I walk outside again, wiping the tears from my eyes before they fall. I hide behind a potted plant, wallowing in my anger and unhappiness.

"America?" someone says.

I step out from the shadows and see Clancy. "America, are you alright?"

I want to forget so badly. I want to forget every kiss I shared with the both of them. So I kiss Clancy. He lets out a surprised sound against my mouth, but he eventually reciprocates.

He pushes me against the wall, and it feels so good to kiss him right now. He hasn't hurt me. Yet.

_Forget everything. _

Clancy kisses trails of fire down my neck, and I sigh. He whispers something against my ear, and I giggle. I vaguely heard it, but I need to keep myself distracted. He kisses my neck again, and I open my eyes for a moment.

I meet angry brown eyes full of betrayal at the end of the hall. Maxon and I look at each other, and if looks could kill, we'd both be slain. He finally narrows his eyes and goes to his room, taking the stairs by two's.

I pull away from Clancy, still breathing hard and fast. "Clancy, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" I say.

He's clearly upset, but he kisses me one last time. "Alright."

Clancy goes back inside to the party, and I go upstairs. I don't bother knocking on Maxon's door; if I did, he wouldn't let me in.

Maxon is sitting on the floor by the foot of his bed, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on a spot on the floor. "Do you want to explain yourself?" I ask.

He turns to me, his eyes cutting and furious. "_Me?_" he says, standing up. "You want _me _to explain myself? What about you? So, what? Just because you're the princess, you can allow men to pin you against the wall?"

I'm taken aback. "I saw you with Daphne, my friend. My _best _friend, whom I've known for God knows how long, and I find you with her—"

"America, let me explain—"

"I don't want an explanation!" I say, my voice rising. "I don't care what you have to say!"

"Then I don't care for your excuse either!" he says, his hands in fists at his sides. "But why _him_? Why Clancy Newman, of all people? I would have been fine if it was Aspen. Do you know what Clancy did to Quintin this morning? He—"

"I don't care about Clancy, Maxon! This is between you and me!"

"God God, woman, you won't let me get a word in edgewise!"

"What could you possibly say that could explain that away? I ask.

"I have a lot of choice words to say, America."

"How could you?" I say, ignoring his words. "How could you do that to me? With my best friend? And do you know why it wasn't Aspen? He was with my _other _best friend. That's why I'm upset, Maxon. I can't believe that the two guys I actually care about let this happen."

"America Singer, if you would just let me explain—"

"I will listen to what Daphne and Nicoletta have to say first. Then maybe I'll consider listening to you," I say with finality.

Maxon runs a hand over his face. "So are we out of the competition?"

"No, not yet."

"Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "Then get out."

"Gladly," I retort.

I slam the door behind me.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you guys for understanding my computer issues! *bangs head on desk* So I'll have the responses for Chapter 16 reviews here so you can skip ahead to the chapter if you don't feel like reading EVERY response. :)**

**fantasybookgirl- I'm glad you like my version! Thanks so much!**

**bubble4life- MAXERICA OR ASPERICA?! Even I'm confused :P Thank you!**

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* * *

_Aspen's POV_

"America, I wasn't doing anything with Nicoletta," I say, feeling enraged and hurt at the same time.

"How do I know that you're not cheating on me?" she says furiously. "When I said I wanted my friends to have an opinion on you, I didn't mean for_ this_ to happen."

"What is _this_?" I say. "You're dating six guys at the same time. You think I think _this _is fair?"_  
_

"I don't get why you had to choose my best friends!" America yells.

"America!" I say, grabbing her shoulders. "We were just talking. I don't understand what's wrong about talking."

"It didn't look like it," she says, avoiding my eyes. She sighs. "I need to go talk Nicoletta and Daphne."

"Wait, why Daphne?" Wrong thing to say. She cuts me off with a glare and storms out of my room.

This is just a guess, something completely on my gut, but I trust my gut. I know this has something to do with Maxon too. I cross the hall to his room and walk inside.

"Does anyone still knock?" he mutters.

"Maxon, did America assault you?"

He chuckles a bit. "Assault. That's funny wording, but yes, she did."

"I was just talking to Nicoletta."

"And I was just talking to Daphne."

"About what?" I say.

"America, of course. She was telling me that if I broke her heart she'd break my bones." Then he smacks his forehead. "God, she probably thought something was going on because there was a piece of hair on my suit coat, and it probably looked like she was touching my shoulder or something."

"Ah, the exact same issue with Nicoletta," I say. "She was telling me to watch myself with America or she'd ship me to New Asia herself."

Maxon laughs at that. "America's friends are as feisty as herself."

I nod. "I know this is a competition, Maxon," I say, feeling as if we need to address this now. "And I know we both love America, but if we could, you know, stay on good terms?"

He nods and holds out his hand. "Of course, Aspen. I don't want to try to win this like Clancy."

I shake my head. "Did you hear what happened to Quintin?"

"He's gone. He asked to leave during the reception. I saw him walk out with America when I was talking with Daphne."

"I'd ask to leave too if someone put a dead body in my closet."

Maxon rubs his jaw, his eyebrows raised. "A dead body?"

"It was a mannequin, but Quintin didn't know that. It looked realistic, and apparently, there was a note on the body that said 'You're next.'"

"That's...horrifying," Maxon says.

I nod. "Yeah."

"One less man, I guess."

"I know both of us will probably end up as the final two somehow, but, uh, I guess I'll update you to know our standings."

Maxon looks hesitant at first, but I can't help not knowing. "Sounds good. Um, there's something you should know about Clancy and America." He pauses before he says, "They were, ah, kissing in the hall."

"Wait, Clancy?" I ask incredulously. "Why? Why of all people, him? I'd rather have it be you. At least I know you're a decent person."

"First of all, thank you," he says, laughing. "And that's exactly what I said to America. I'd rather have it be you than that douche."

I smirk. "What?" he says.

"Politicians' sons curse too."

He chuckles. "Of course. Politicians aren't saints."

I laugh with him. "No, they aren't."

"Aspen, do you want to be king?" he asks suddenly.

I shrug. "I don't know. I mean, I'd change the poverty situation for sure if I was, but I'm not really sure I'd want the responsibility. What about you?"

"I kind of just want to take pictures and do what I love."

"So I guess we're both here for America then," I say.

"I guess so."

* * *

_America's POV_

"Daphne, what exactly were you doing with Maxon a while ago?" I ask sharply. Daphne's eyes fill with hurt at my accusation, but at least I have a reason.

"America, it's not what you think."

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was telling Maxon that I would break every bone in his body if he broke your heart."

I blink and gape at her, probably looking like a dehydrated woman in the desert. "Th-then why was your hand on his shoulder?"

She rolls her eyes. "There was a hair on his suit coat, a hair that looked suspiciously red, excuse moi."

I turn to Nicoletta. "What were you doing with Aspen?"

"Talking to him, of course," she says defensively. "You know how much we Italians like to chat, America."

"America, if you cannot trust us with simply men, how can you trust us with other things?" Daphne asks.

I want to cry because I'm so humiliated of myself, and Daphne's right. How could I do this to my best friends and the two guys I love? I sigh and collapse on the ground. "I'm so sorry," I say. "I really don't know how you can forgive me."

"America, you're not usually like this," Nikki says, kneeling down next to me. "What happened a while ago?"

"One of the guys wanted to leave, and I just felt like it's my fault."

"Why would it be your fault?" Daphne says, joining us on the floor.

"Maybe I'm not trying hard enough with the boys? I don't know. I saw you and with the guys I love after I walked another guy out, and it was just easier to blame someone else than myself. I'm so sorry, and I really shouldn't have blown up like that."

"I can tell you're having a genuinely hard time with the Selection," Daphne says.

"But it would be nicer if you'd let us help you instead of turning against us, okay?" Nikki says, a hint of a smile in her voice.

I laugh and we group hug and it's cliche and probably a bit like an artificial teenage movie, but we don't care. "I love you girls so much," I say.

"We'd never steal anything from you, Ames," Daphne says.

"Maybe your perfume, though, it smells like vanilla," Nikki says.

We laugh, and I feel better about the whole thing until I remember I'd have to tell Aspen and Maxon. This is going to be humiliating, and I know they'll give me hell for it.

* * *

**Part two of the reviews! **

**krriordan- Haha beggin on your knees for ma story :P Victorious reference. Good times :) Thank you so much!**

**Kiren- I'm glad you think I'm clever :) I saw what happened to you. At least yours saved :P Thanks!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Silly America. Sooo Tuesday, the 22nd? More Clancy manwhoreness? Or sexy time with Aspen and/or Maxon :P Whatever you want, cuz it's your birthday! Thank you so much!**

**ilona18- I'm glad you liked it! So happy :D And yeah, writing a less frustrating America just...it's good for me. Thank you so much!**

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**Jaz- Muchas gracias, chica! No puedo hablar mucho Espanol, pero puedo hablar un poco. Yo entender mejor, pero yo saber este no entender. Um, yeah. Gracias!**

**winterprincess- Haha someone's frustrated with the frustrating America we all love/dislike with a passion. Thanks so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	19. Chapter 19

_Maxon's POV_

America's fidgeting.

I can't believe that only moments ago she was angry at Aspen and me. She wrings her hands while Aspen and I stand at the foot of my bed. We look at each other, and I'm sure he's thinking the same think as I. _Do we choose to forgive her so easily because we love her? Or do we choose to give her hell for it? And either way, will we end up trusting her anyway, because it's so obvious she doesn't trust us?_

"I owe you guys an apology," America finally says, looking at her hands. "And I know what I did was out of the blue, and I can't express how sorry I am. I was upset, and I wasn't thinking properly. When Quintin asked to leave a while ago, I didn't know who to blame. Myself, for not trying too hard? So when I saw you two with my best friends, who might as well be my sisters...Well, it seemed so much easier to place the blame on you guys. That way, if you wanted to leave too, it wouldn't be so hard on me and I'd be mad instead of heartbroken." She says all of this slowly, like it's a eulogy that deserves to be listened to.

America quickly brushes away a fallen tear, and I want to embrace her and wipe her tears away, but with Aspen a mere five feet away, I know I can't. For all I know, he's thinking the same thing.

The silence is thick and humid, like we are suddenly in a dense jungle of awkwardness and quietude. Aspen sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Quintin's leaving wasn't your fault, Mer," he says. When does he call her _Mer_?_  
_

"He said he didn't feel anything between us," she replies, confused that we know more than she does.

"That must have been his excuse," I say. "He was always really nice."

"Both of you mentioned something that happened between him and Clancy," America says. "What was it?"

I look at Aspen, and he nods. "First of all, we're not sabotaging another contestant," I say.

"We would never win that way, no matter how much we care about you," Aspen seconds.

I take a deep breath. "There was a 'dead body' in Quintin's closet," I say, using air quotes. "It was covered in blood, and a note on it said 'You're next.'"

America gasps and covers her mouth. "How did you know it was Clancy?"

"It definitely wasn't me or Maxon," Aspen says. "Quintin wouldn't have done it to himself, and Jay is too noble of a person to do that."

"What about Grayson?" I say, remembering the other man.

She frowns. "I don't think Clancy or Grayson are that kind of person."

"We could rule out Grayson, but none of us really know him that well," Aspen says.

"And maybe Clancy isn't that person around you," I say, "but he's ruthless. He'll do anything to get the crown."

She looks hurt that I said "the crown" and not her, but her eyes reveal the truth she knows. America bites her lip nervously and glances at Aspen. "Does he know..."

I nod, even though she hasn't looked at either of us since she apologized. "Yeah, he knows about you and Clancy." I didn't mean to sound so accusing and snide, but I guess that's how it came across.

Her eyes shoot up to mine like a bow ready to fire. "I said I was sorry," she says, her throat a bit choked. "I thought the two guys I actually loved were cheating on me. How would you two have felt?"

We don't have an answer, because we're too busy in our own heads about what she just said. She loves _both _of us. Not just me, not just him, but both.

"Yeah, I didn't think you had an answer either," America says, taking our silence as a response. "I better catch some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow, and a date with Clancy."

Aspen and I nod, looking at the floor, probably feeling equally uncomfortable about this situation, and only when the door shuts do we look at each other.

"You and I may be friends not, Schreave, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop fighting for her," Aspen says in a low voice.

I nod. "Don't worry, Leger. I intend to do the same."

He nods, and just stands there for a while. I clear my throat. "This is _my _room, by the way."

"Right, of course." He walks out the door, and my mind is muddled. I take a long shower, change, get in bed, and I still can't stop thinking that America loves both of us. If she wants me, and she wants him, who's going to win?

* * *

_America's POV_

I officially hate myself. Hell, I'd eliminate myself from the Selection if I could. As much as I love the two of them, I don't want to believe Aspen and Maxon.

My date yesterday with Clancy was...passionate, I'll give him that. I hadn't meant for him to pin me against a tree and kiss me like the night before, but I didn't want to arise any suspicion of what I might know.

"Mer, what are you thinking about?" Aspen asks, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

I sigh. "Just how much I hate myself."

He actually laughs. "Why would you hate yourself?"

"I just don't know how I can keep going with this. My mother wants another elimination, and my dad's willing to give me time, but I can tell he just wants this to be as over as soon as I want it to be. They just both want me happy."

He gives me a hug and warms my arms from the frigid air. "We all want you happy, Mer, including the entire country."

I stifle a laugh. "What's your family like?"

Aspen holds me closer to him. "Well, they're supportive. There's a lot of us, but there's plenty of love to go around."

"How many are you?"

"Well, let's see. There's my mom, Lena. She's really kind and hardworking, and she really admires your mom, the queen." He clears his throat, and I laugh. "There's me, the eldest." I frown. What about his father? I couldn't imagine a life without my dad. Through thick and thin, he's always there for me.

Aspen seems to know the unspoken question on my mind. "My father passed away when I was younger."

I just nod.

"Um, there's Beckner, the second oldest. There are the twins, Celia and Kamber. They're really into drama and theater and stuff like that. I'm sure you'd like them. There's Reed, then Jemmy, then little Ivy."

"Wow," I say. "That's a lot of kids." I stand here, feeling awful that I have both of my parents and only one of me, when there is one of his mom and one of Aspen and six kids.

"Yeah, I have no idea how we survived, but we did, and I'm here."

I look up at him. "Are the checks we're sending helping at all?"

He smiles at me, and I can see that he's really grateful in just that one, small smile. "Yes, they are, Mer. I wish you could see how happy they are."

An idea sparks in my head. I pull back from him quickly, and I can't conceal my grin. "Maybe I can! Okay, okay, so the Easter Ball is in two weeks. So I was thinking that maybe the Elite's families could come! I mean, it was bound to happen anyway, my meeting the families, and this is the perfect time, and—"

Aspen quickly cuts my rambling off with a kiss. With his lips pressed against mine, I feel like he could be the One. He's so happy right now that he can't pull away without laughing. "Mer!" He picks me up and spins me around, my giggling seeming to echo throughout all of Angeles. "My family is going to be _here! _At the _palace!_"

He finally sets me down to kiss me again, and I put my arms around his neck. Aspen and I are like ice and fire; we're so different, yet you hear those two words paired together all the time. He finds a way to hold me back, to keep my temper in check. And maybe that's why I love him.

But there's still Maxon. And I said I love him too.

"You're amazing," he says breathlessly.

I kiss his cheek. "I better make the arrangements starting tonight. It won't take long, but I'd have to organize the Ball as well."

Aspen smiles. "I'll walk you out."

He leads me to the door, even though I think it's silly yet sweet that he's walking with me literally four yards. "Thank you, America," he says.

"No problem," I say. "Good night, Aspen."

"Good night, Mer."

I practically skip down the halls to my father's office. I knock on the door, and he calls, "Come in!"

"Daddy, I had an idea," I say. Dad looks up from his papers and puts down his pen.

"What is it, kitten?" Any man would sound uninterested, but he actually sounds intrigued.

"I was thinking that since the Easter Ball is coming up, and I'd have to meet the Elite's families soon, they could come during the Easter Ball. What do you think?"

Dad beams with pride, and I couldn't be prouder to be his daughter. "That's an excellent idea, America. Call your mother, so she knows as well."

I open the door to my mother's office and say, "Mother, emergency family meeting."

She jumps up from her chair and joins us in Dad's office. "What? What is it? Impending rebel attacks? International threats?"

"Mom, calm down," I say, grabbing a hold of her shoulders. "Think a smaller scale."

"The Selection? Are you making another elimination?" My mother looks giddy that we could be one person closer to the next prince, and ultimately the next king.

"Um, not quite," I reply, "but it's in that alley." I let go of her shoulders.

"Thank you, America. You had a death grip on me." She rolls back her shoulders to be dramatic.

I roll my eyes when she's not looking to avoid a scolding. "So, my idea. For the Easter Ball, do you think we could invite the Elite's families? I mean, I have to meet them anyway, and why not then, right?"

I'm expecting Mother to yell at me, or say my idea isn't well thought-out, but she actually smiles. "That's a suitable idea, honey."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll get started on the invitations and such." I start to head out the door. "Do you need me to do anything else for the Ball? Food, music, entertainment, those weird acrobat ladies?"

Both of my parents laugh. "I think we're good, America," Mother says.

"Oh, but wait!" Dad says. "It is Easter. Do you want to do the annual tradition with the guys?"

I clap my hands. "Dad, that sounds so much fun! Absolutely!"

"Okay, I'll tell the maids to get started on it."

"Thanks so much. Love you!" I call over my shoulder.

I can still hear their response of _Love you, too _even after I close the door._  
_

* * *

**So! Annual tradition at the palace. What is it? Weird acrobat ladies dressed up as the Easter Bunny? **

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**HorseGalFangirl9- Brilliant? Aw, you flatter me! Thanks so much!**

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**jstachew- OMG I love your stories btw. I saw your review I was like :O NO WAY. Thank you soooo much!**

**krriordan- Sorry if the confrontation wasn't hilarious :-/ I'm also sorry I didn't update since...I can't even remember. But thank you so much! Your reviews mean a lot to me :)**

**Kiren- I might do that as a bonus scene when I finish the entire story. Is that okay? Thanks so much!**

**fantasybookgirl- Yeah, I like it when guys get along. I don't really like fighting. I'm a lover, not a fighter, GOT IT?! Jk I was trying to be funny but it's like midnight so sorry if I'm failing in that department. Thanks so much!**

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**piepie1289- Hahaha lol you really want a threesome? I'm surprised someone hasn't done it yet. And you're welcome for making you cry :) Thank you so much!**

**lovewords- Maxon? Aspen? Grayson? ****Clancy?**** Jay? Idk! Hey, that rhymed...I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	20. Chapter 20

_Aspen's POV_

"So I have an announcement," America says. I would probably be as confused as everybody else if America didn't already tell me. "I've had my father and mother to agree, and accommodations will be easily made." It's obvious that she's drawing out the news to incite more eagerness. "The Easter Ball is tomorrow night..." America smiles. "Maybe your families should tell you down at the foyer."

Cheers and loud whoops from the guys fill the rooms. We thank her quickly, burying America in hugs, before we practically sprint downstairs. The foyer is full of people, but the families are in their own huddles. The castes are so very blatant in the room. There are two families of Twos, that much I can tell.

"Aspen!" someone calls. I whip my head to the voice, and I have to stop myself from sliding down the banister. When I reach my family, they encase me in embraces. "Aspen, we missed you so much!" Celia says.

"You too, Celia," I say, kissing the top of her head. "And Kamber, how have you been?"

She smiles. "I got the lead role in the play!"

"That's great!" I say, giving her a kiss as well.

"Thanks to you, Aspen," Mom says. "Your dad would have been so proud of you. And look at you, all dressed up in a suit and tie."

She smiles wistfully, and I give her a tight hug. I greet Beckner with a punch to his shoulder, one that he easily blocks. He's been getting stronger, and he's nearly as tall as me. I scoop up Reed and Jemmy into my arms before setting them down to spin my little sister Ivy around.

"Aspen!" Mom whisper-yells. She looks pointedly behind me, looking a bit bug-eyed in the process. I hoist Ivy in my arms, her curly black hair concealing a bit of my view.

I grin. "America, this is my family," I say, gesturing to the seven of them. The girls do their best to curtsy without falling over while the boys bow.

"Your highness," my mom says, walking past me to greet America. "It's such a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, please, Mrs. Leger, the pleasure is all mine."

"Your highness, call me Lena."

America graciously smiles. "Then you must call me America." She walks to me and smiles at the girl in my arms. "And who is this little cutie?"

"I'm Ivy," she says excitedly. "And you're the princess. I wish I was princess."

"Who knows, Ivy?" America says, glancing at me sneakily. "You could be princess." She goes to the twins next. "Celia and Kamber, yes?"

"Why is Celia always first?" Kamber says, crossing her arms.

"Kamber," my mother scolds. "Don't be impertinent to the princess."

"Lena, it's quite alright," America reassures with a smile. "So you're Kamber and Celia? The next Broadway stars, I assume?"

Celia and Kamber give each other an approving nod to each other and say yes to America. The princess makes her way over to the boys next, all kissing her hand, including little Jemmy. She whispers something in his ear, and he salutes like a soldier.

America laughs and shoots me a grin. "It was great meeting all of you," she says to all of us. "I have to meet the other families, but I'll see you again soon!"

She waves to all of us, and Ivy giggles. "I like her, Aspen."

Beckner nudges me. "Hey, Aspen, if you don't get her, can I have her?"

I smirk while everyone else laughs. "Get in the back of the line, Beck. And trust me, it's a long one."

"Aspen," Mom whispers in my ear, "you love her, don't you?" It's more of a statement rather than a question.

"I do, Mom. I do."

* * *

_America's POV_

As I walk down the stairs, I don't know what to expect. The families are in their own groups, as if an invisible wall separates everyone. By the time I get to the foyer, the loud laughs are echoing. I talk to Aspen's family first, as they are the nearest and largest. Their caste marks them as if they are leaved oak trees during winter. I honestly can't say anything horrible about them. They are so nice and kind and so welcoming I already feel like I'm a part of their family.

Jay's family is next. He introduces me to his father, a handsome man that looks much like his son. They're Fours, but I feel as if they're just dripping in professionalism and refinement. It's astounding how inferior I feel around these people. Jay's mother is beautiful, with her dark hair and cat-like eyes. Jay's older brothers are nothing short of propriety as well. They're very polite, if not a bit rigid.

Clancy's family is sophisticated in a similar way, but they're a tad bit looser. He has a glamorous older sister with luscious brown hair much like Clancy's. His parents are very proper and kind, which lessens my belief that he could have made men leave this competition.

Grayson is all smiles when I reach him. His mother goes straight for a hug, and I have to admit I'm a bit surprised, but I return the embrace nonetheless. Grayson's father has crinkles by his eyes from smiling. Grayson told me his parents are professors, and I can tell how intelligent they are just by looking at them. Grayson's younger brother, Emmett, is adorable. I can't imagine the entire week with children. It will be a difference, that's for sure.

I finally reach Maxon's family. His father looks a bit impatient, if not angry. I curtsy. "Mr. and Mrs. Schreave, it's so nice to finally meet you. Maxon has said so many nice things about you."

Maxon's father kisses the back of my hand. "All good things, I hope."

I catch Maxon, in the corner of my eye, looking a bit like Jay's family. "Of course, Sir," I say. "Your son is very well brought up."

Mr. Schreave huffs a bit, satisfied for now. "And you must be Maxon's mother," I say to the radiant woman. "I absolutely adore your clothing line. You're so photogenic!"

She laughs graciously, making the simple act of laughing look elegant. "Thank you, your highness. And please, call me Amberly."

I smile at her and move to the long-legged girl next to her. The girl looks like she's trying to act superior, but I can tell that she's impressed and actually excited to be here at the palace. I curtsy to her. "You're May, yes?" I say to her.

Her stubborn jaw eases a bit, and she curtsies. "Yes, Your Majesty."

I smile, wanting to relax her. "Call me America, May. I love your dress, by the way." Her dress suits her blond hair and her hazel eyes.

May musters an approximation of a grin, a corner of her lips pulling up. "Thank you, America. Your dress is so much prettier, though."

I laugh and stoop down to meet the twelve-year-old boy. I stick out my hand. "You must be Gerad. How are you?"

"I'm doing fine," he says, shaking it. "And you?"

"Just splendid, young man."

Gerad smiles and flips his brown hair. "Maxon, I like her," he says. I laugh, and Maxon tugs his ear. I tug mine back. I want to talk to him about his two older siblings.

I'm glad Gerad likes me, and the other families. I was never the type of person to want to be liked. I didn't really mind whether or not I had someone's consent. But this moment, with all of the Elite's families, that could soon be mine, is one I hold close to my heart already. I want them to like me. I want their approval.

"It was wonderful meeting all of you," I say to the entire room once I'm on the second step of the stairs. "Thank you all for being here. We're so pleased to have you stay at the palace for the annual Easter Ball. I have to say that it's one of my favorite holidays." The families smile at me politely. "I'm sorry my parents couldn't greet you in person now, but you'll meet them soon enough. The mothers and sisters are invited to have tea with my mother and me in the Women's Room this afternoon. I'll be more than happy to lead you there myself. As for the Elite, their fathers, and their brothers, you will be having some drinks and cigars with my father in the Men's Parlor. I'm sure your sons would graciously lead you there. Right, boys?" I add teasingly.

The Elite chuckle, and I feel like we all have some inside joke. It feels good to know that we're sort of in this together.

"The maids will escort you to the rooms you will be using for your entire stay, and they will get you readied during your visit, as well as the Ball tomorrow night."

I don't really know what else to say, so I give one last smile and wave before practically bounding up the stairs. The maids are soon upon the families like shepherds flocking their sheep. I'm quite excited to speak with the girls of the Elite's families. I hope they like me as much as their sons.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

"So, I'm guessing you like this girl," my father asks. We don't usually have heart-to-heart conversations, and if we do, they usually lead to whippings. But he wanted to see the palace, probably trying to find a way to make our house somewhat like it. So now we're walking down the halls clad in chandeliers and paintings.

"I do, Father," I simply say. I don't want to completely gush on America. I'll save that for my mother.

"She's a good choice," he says. "The best choice, actually. But Maxon, what will you do if you don't end up as king, hmm? Will you let her go so easily or will you find another girl and leave the princess behind?"

"I don't know, Father."

"Well, you better know. You can't simply play everything by ear, you know. Who would your second choice be?"

"I told you I don't know, Father, but you know how Selected girls are after they're eliminated. They have a line of suitors waiting for them at their home province. Who knows, maybe I'll have a line of girls too."

"I don't just want any girl in this family," he says sternly. "Have you met any other princesses?"

"Well, I've met Princess Daphne and Princess Nicoletta—"

"Perfect!" Father claps his hands in blatant satisfaction, the boom echoing down the hall. "Foreign princesses are better. You could strengthen our country's alliances, boost my political—"

"Father, I am here for America, not any other princess." We stop walking altogether, and he looks at me.

"Excuse me?"

"Princess or not, I love America."

My father's hands ball into fists at his side. "Then Maxon, you are a fool to be in love with a person who does not benefit you."

"Father, she benefits me as a person." I work hard to keep my voice level; any higher in decibel or pitch will throw him over the edge.

"Does she?" he pushes.

"Then why did you marry Mom? Was it for political advances?"

"Yes! She was a Four, and I would look like a good man by marrying 'her for her'."

I glare at my father. "Look me in the eye," I say cuttingly, "and try to tell me you don't love my mother."

He stares me down, his jaw jutting out. "Get in the room," he hisses. He opens the door behind me and yanks me with him. "Kneel!" he bellows. I clench my jaw and do as he says. "Take off your shirt."

I take my suit coat off, then pull my button down over my head and take it in between my teeth. That way I won't be heard screaming from outside. I can hear the swish of his belt as he tests it. This is considered a luxury. The thick leather belt is surprisingly more appealing than the actual whip. He forces me down so my back is entirely exposed.

I'm surprised when I meet the first lash. I stifle a grunt into the shirt. The last time I got whipped was way before the Selection. I'm not used to the biting pain anymore. "That is for disrespecting me."

He hits me again, and this time I make no sound. "That's for loving a woman who has no idea if she loves you."

The next fifteen lashes are agonizing, every one having a reason to mark my back. By now, I feel as if every hit is a food that has lost its unique taste after eating it so many times.

"Stand up," my father finally says. "We're supposed to meet with the king very soon. I expect you to behave and be obedient. Don't make me look bad." And with that, he leaves the room.

I try to stand, and I stumble. I huff, frustrated that I didn't stand up to him this time. I grimace through the pain, and my back feels like it's been clawed to shreds. I take another harrowing breath and try to stand. I have to use the wall to get myself to the door. I'm breathing heavily by now. I have no idea how to get myself cleaned up, and surely I can't ask the doctors at the hospital wing to give me bandages without arising suspicion.

I put on my shirt, the fabric scratching against the fresh, open wounds. I grit my teeth as I pull on my suit coat and walk out to the hall. I pass by the hospital wing.

"It's an emergency," I say. "My maid has, uh, scraped her knee and I need a first-aid kit."

The doctor is kind enough to hand it to me without any hesitation. I do my best to rush to my room without inflicting any more pain. _So stupid_ I think. Did I really have to do that? I thought that maybe this time I would stand up to him, that maybe he'd see me as much a man as he. But still, a thought dawns on me: he never said he didn't love my mother. So does that mean that he does?

I open my door, and I'm so ready to remedy my back, but instead, I hear a surprised, "Oh!"

I want to slap myself. I've completely forgotten about our ear-tugging. "Hi, Maxon," she says, walking to me. "I was just, uh, looking at your pictures."

The pain just intensifies when she sees the metal box in my hands. "Is that a first-aid kit? Maxon, what's wrong?" America walks to me, and I nearly fall. "Oh, my God! Let me get a maid."

"No," I exhale, grabbing her hand just in time. "Lock the doors, close the balcony doors."

Her face shows every fear I can think of. But she compliantly nods and does what I asked of her. I practically crawl to my bed. "Please get me a towel," I breathe. She nods and comes back with two, both pristine and white like her face. I don't know how I'll explain this one to my maids or America for that matter.

* * *

**I don't know about you, but I almost cried just writing that. Trying to imagine that pain was painful in and of itself. **

**It's like: So, uh, you met the families! Great! Yeah, mine is the only one that's dysfunctional, and we're not even poor! My dad abuses me! T_T**

**My sense of humor's super deranged at the moment, and it's not even midnight. Also, I'm surprised at how many people wanted the acrobat ladies. Should it happen?**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**agb1700- It might be Easter egg hunting...I love candy, but chocolate is my thing. I'm such a chocoholic. Whoa that's an actual thing. Lurve ya too!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- Glad you loved it! Thanks!**

**krriordan- I'm glad you're still excited about reading this! Thanks so much!**

**Mhpropp16- New reviewer! Thank you so much!**

**Kiren- Hmm...Asperica? Of course!...not. Can't guarantee it :) Thank you!**

**Piper is Boss- Haha dude Maxerican should be a race :P And it's fine to love Grayson! In fact, love whoever you want! #motivationalspeaker Thanks so much!**

**idk0- Another new reviewer! Easter egg hunt might ring a bell :) Thank you!**

**Nichole Hero Of The Gods- Another new reviewer! Maxon should call her Ames...*writes it down* Thanks so much!**

**theoneforever- Haha I'm so torn between Maxerica and Asperica right now in the process of writing this. I'M SO CONFUSED. Thanks so much!**

**Guest- You guys and the acrobats :P Thanks so much!**

**Book addict 112- I'll continue to write as long as there are people to write for :) Thank you so much!**

**4Love4Love4- Sorry I didn't mention the tradition thing yet :) But people guessed Easter egg hunting and I said that it might be that... Thank you!**

**piepie1289- Hahaha my mind's dirty, but not dirty enough to properly imagine how an Aspemaxerica threesome would work. *shudders* Thanks so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- I get like ten presents for one birthday :P Everyone's a spoiled birthday child. Thank you so much!**

**fantasybookgirl- Easter's cool :) I'm more of a Christmas person, though. Thanks so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	21. Chapter 21

_America's POV_

I carefully lay the towels beneath Maxon after locking every door and covering every window. My hands are shaking like rattles. I try and take a steady breath, but all it does it make me remember as to why I want to calm myself down. What the hell is happening?

"America," Maxon says slowly, coming out more of an exhale. "Your record with trust, albeit short and inconvenient at the moment, hasn't been so good as of late. But this is a secret that goes to your grave." He takes another breath and struggles to slip off his suit coat. I help him out of it, and my irrational thoughts about undressing him enter my mind. I have to admit a part of me is ecstatic to know what this secret is if it means his being shirtless.

But when I start to unbutton his shirt and take it off, making a sticky sound, my excitement deteriorates like a wilting flower.

"Slowly," he says.

Maxon takes a breath—as do I, considering his sculpted torso makes an appearance yet again. I move behind him to go from there, and I can't hold back my gasp.

The back of Maxon's shirt is completely soaked with blood.

I stare at it for a moment before realizing that my gaping probably makes things worse. Once I get his shirt off, I go to the bathroom and put it beneath the water spout of the porcelain tub. I turn on the water for a moment, and the metallic smell wafts to my nose. The water washes away some of the blood, the red water going down the drain. I turn off the faucet for now and grab a hand towel, dousing it in warm water before returning to Maxon.

_Who would do this to him?_

I get a good look of his back. There's a thick lash that's bright red around the edges and bleeding. It overlaps yet another, and another, until I finally count sixteen fresh marks. The rawer ones are thicker in width compared to the ones overlapping the scars. The scarred gashes look thinner and much more painful.

Suddenly, images of Maxon play in my head like a film—how he would stretch his back when he talked about his father, how he looked during the caning. It all makes sense.

Maxon's father gave him these wounds, and the ones before. How can any man do this to his son?

"This might sting a little," I warn, showing him the wet towel from behind him.

"It's okay," he whispers. "I'm used to it."

I hate that. I hate the fact that he's used to it. I hate that this ever happened at all.

I start from the one at the very top, the last one he has received, dabbing at the long gouge.

"I suppose I owe you an explanation," Maxon says, and I don't respond. How do you respond to something like this? "As I have said, my father is a megalomaniac—"

"I didn't know it went this far."

He breathes, sounding a bit like a mirthless laugh. "I haven't gotten whipped since before the Selection. Today was actually a lucky day. He didn't have his actual whip, so he used his belt."

"Maxon, no matter what he hits you with, it's never going to be okay."

He stays quiet for a while until he continues. "Before Kenna left the family and got married, we would all get punished evenly. If someone so much as responded to Father trying to outwit him, we would all get whipped."

I can't believe that May, who just oozes confidence, and Gerad, a small who isn't even a teenager yet, gets abused like this.

"Did—does—anyone else know?" I ask. I'd hate to think that someone as sweet as Amberly wouldn't do a thing to refrain Clarkson.

"My siblings, of course, and our housekeeper and maid, Eliza, but she gets whipped as well, so I suppose this isn't as big of a secret."

"What about your mother?"

"I would never tell my mother or even give her a reason to suspect. She knows Father is stern with all of us—the entire household, in fact—but no one wants her to worry. Besides, she's out of town too often to know what really happens at home. My siblings and I all promised each other to hide it from her, and we made Eliza swear too. No one wants her to worry. And all of us can take it."

I keep dabbing.

"He's not like this with her," he promises quickly. "She gets mistreated in her own ways, I'm sure, but not like this."

"Hmm," I say, not quite sure what to say.

I wipe again, and Maxon hisses. "Damn, that stings."

I pull away for a minute while slows down his breathing. After a while, he moves his head in an approximation of a nod, so I start again.

"That explains your siblings' behaviors," I say. "Kenna's leaving, Kota's running away, May's partying and clubbing, Gerad's cursing, though I don't know _your_ way of tolerating it."

"I just keep taking pictures as if nothing's wrong," he says a bit sullenly. "The camera won't get my emotions if I'm the one using it."

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Why did you get whipped just now?" I ask, then shake my head. "Never mind. That's rude."

He shrugs his better shoulder. "My father asked..." He trails off, trying to think of a way to tell me.

"It's fine," I say, dabbing gently at the next wound. "You don't have to tell me. I respect your privacy."

"I'll tell you soon enough," he vows. "Just not now."

"That's perfectly fine," I say.

"Without divulging any details, I can tell you that he basically asked me if I was here for you, and not the crown." I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, but I can already guess just by looking at his lashes. "I said that I wanted you and not the throne, that if royalty or not, I still would have wanted you."

Tears fill my eyes at his words. He hasn't said the three words yet, but he is so very close.

"He thought me ridiculous and idiotic for wanting a person who wouldn't 'benefit' me." Maxon makes the point of using air-quotes with his fingers.

"Thank you," I manage to say. "Instead of lying, you..." I laugh weakly, brushing a tear from my cheek.

His hand finds my knee. "How are you going to finish fixing me up if you're crying?"

I laugh again and find the first-aid kit he brought up here. I open the box and find salves, ointments, and bandages. "How did you get past the doctor?" I ask as I read the labels of disinfectants, trying to find the right ones.

"I told the doctor that my maid scraped her knee."

"Judging by the supplies the doctor gave you, you must have made it sound like your maid was bleeding to death."

He laughs weakly, but it turns into a cringe of pain when he bends his back even the slightest bit.

"This might hurt a bit," I say, preparing to apply the medication.

When it makes contact with his skin, he grunts once then reverts to silence. I try to be quick and thorough, ready to make him as comfortable as possible. I start putting some salve that seems to be working. Some tension leaves his shoulders, and I'm glad. If he hadn't revealed his feelings about me, this never would have happened. But I suppose I can't really place blame on anyone except for Clarkson.

Maxon snorts out a light laugh. "I had a feeling my secret would come out eventually. I've taken to dressing myself everyday, so my maids don't know. I got to thinking a few months ago that I needed a good story for my wife, but I assured myself with the possibility that I might not even marry."

"I guess it would be a more difficult manner if you and I were reversed. That you were the prince that needed to marry, and I a girl fighting for you."

He chuckles. "I guess I'm glad I'm not the prince then."

I want to say that in the event that I choose him, he would be the prince. But I see no point in arguing right now.

"America," he says, as I start to wrap the bandages around his torso, "you can choose to eliminate me now. You know how my father truly is. If you don't want that man in your life, I'll understand. I can go home with my family as soon as you want me gone. I—"

"Shh," I say, tying the bandage off. "How is that?" I ask, ignoring what he just said.

A sliver of me wants to take that into consideration. Who knows what that man could as a One? But the stronger, bigger portion wants Maxon to stay no matter the circumstances.

"That's great, America," he says, twisting and bending a bit, moving gingerly. He turns to look at me, his expression grateful. "Better than any job I ever did myself."

"Anytime."

My eyes dart to his chest, and I wonder if that lucky housekeeper, Eliza, was ever fortunate enough to see this freely.

I stand. "I'm going to wash your shirt." I return to the bathroom, with all of the towels I used, and put it in the hamper. I wash Maxon's shirt, because it distracts me from looking at his chest.

When I wring the shirt dry and put it in the laundry basket with the towels, I see Maxon staring at me. "Why did you tug your ear a while ago?"

"Well, my initial thought was to ask where your older siblings were," I say, joining him beside the bed. "But the real reason is that today is Marlee and Carter's wedding."

Maxon springs up, immediately groaning in pain. I put a hand on his shoulder and ease him down slowly. "Are you okay?" I ask.

"We can't miss it," he says. "We have to go."

"It's fine," I say, even though I don't want to miss it myself. "I'm sure Carter of all people will understand."

"Then let's go because you want to go," he says, pulling me up delicately. "I know you want to go. You fixed me, now let me do something for you."

"What if your father sees?" I still ask, though I'm already grabbing Maxon a shirt, a coat, and a tie.

"It'll be okay. What time are the things with your parents later?"

"Not until four o'clock, and it's about two right now." I walk over to him with his new clothes. Even the fabrics hold his scent.

"Excellent," he replies, and he struggles to dress. I help him into his clothes and tie his tie for him. "When did you learn how to—"

"I asked my father to teach me," I say, cutting him off. "I'm a woman of many talents." I say it to lighten the mood, but Maxon takes it to heart.

"Yes, you are."

Before we leave the room, he pulls me in for a soft kiss. "Thank you, America."

I look intently into his eyes. "I will guard this with my life."

He kisses my nose and exits with me. "Come on. We have a wedding to attend."

* * *

**Disclaimer: All lines from _The Elite _are Kiera Cass's. I'm sure you'll recognize them, as well as her characters.**

**So, um, yeah. That just happened.**

**PrincessIndia- Ooh, _two_ endings. I feel like that's too satisfying for everyone, and I'm an evil author, so what I'll do is write the actual ending and maybe an alternative ending. So yeah. Evil author coming your way! Thanks so much!**

**agb1700- Reason I love Maxon: _chocolate _brown eyes :P Haha your neologisms are the best! As usuality, your reviews are AMAZINGER. :) Thanks so much! Lurve ya!**

**theoneforever- Awww it really makes me smile when someone says my story made them cry. Lol I'm not sadistic or anything, but I'm just happy to know that my writing actually affects people. Thank you so much!**

**lilythemermaid- Gotta love Maxon :) Actually, I know someone that went through that. His father whipped his three children with belts. Um, yeah. Sorry! Didn't mean to depress you. So glad you're still liking it! Thank you sooo much! LALALOL P.S. I saw atm at the end and I was like $_$ MONEY!**

**Kiren- I don't know. _Can _Clarkson die? :P Thank you!**

**Book addict 112- Sorry this wasn't Maxerica! I'm sure you'll see Asperica in the future. Thank you so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- I loooove Wicked! Was this chapter fluffy enough? :/ Thank you so much!**

**Guest- Aw, thank you so much! Glad you're liking it!**

**EWhisks- *British accent* Let it all unfold. I'm happy you're loving it! Thanks so much!**

**miaforevez- Haha I hate the heat. I'd much rather be cold than hot. Like, I'd wear shorts during the winter. Haha and you cried? Aw, thank you so much! It means my story is affecting you :P Thanks!**

**dakotamo- HAHAHAHAHAHA :D Thank you so much!**

**piepie1289- Trying to find a way to work out is really confusing. Like, would it be...Ew, no, never mind. This is a conundrum :/ Lol thanks!**

**winterprincess- Clarkson, how dare you -_- Thanks so much!**

**HorseGalFangirl9- Aww you're _sobbing_? I hope I'm not literally killing you. Are you there? Hellooo? :P Thank you so much!**

**Angela Noelle- New reviewer! I do like _Divergent _:) I've read the first two chapters of your story, and WOW, it's so interesting! I was going to read more, but I've been writing a chapter to reading a chapter ratio has been 2:0 lately. I'm glad you're enjoying! Thank you so much!**

**krriordan- Haha yes for the acrobats? Awesome :) Thank you so much! P.S. I found it funny you put a smiley face next to "I feel bad for Maxon." :P **

**ChloeluvsTHG- New reviewer! Thank you sooooo much! Everyone's support, including yours, is phenomenal in and of itself. Thanks again!**

**lovewords- New reviewer! I think. I'm glad you like my Aspen! And thank you for the long review! I quite like long reviews :) Thank you so much!**

**Catherine du Beau- New reviewer! And yes, America knows about the whippings :P Thank you so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	22. Chapter 22

_Aspen's POV_

"The palace is magnificent," Mom swoons, admiring every hallway. "I imagined it to be beautiful, but this is...wow."

"It's great," I say. "I love it here."

"I have a feeling the palace isn't the only thing you love," Mom teases.

I laugh. My mom is always like this when a girl is involved. I've never been in a really serious relationship. I mean, maybe I'd meet with a girl here and there, and sneak a kiss now and then, but none of them were for me. My last was a girl named Brenna, who was a bit clumsy for my taste. She was my caste, but she just wasn't my type.

But America...

"Mom, I really love her," I say, as we turn a corner. "She's beautiful, talented, passionate, brave—"

"Sounds a bit like you, if you ask me," Mom says.

I chuckle. "Yeah, she's—"

I suddenly hear voices, and I hold a finger to my lips to Mom. Two people, I can tell that much. Both are very hotheaded at the moment, but I can't quite catch the words they're saying. I hear a door slam, and it's quiet once more.

"That was odd," Mom says.

"Um, yeah. I never said palace life wasn't scandalous." I try to lighten the mood, but the suspicious event leaves us wary.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Um, do you want to see the gardens?" I say.

Mom shakes her head. "That's fine. I should get ready for that tea party anyway. Could you lead me to my room please?"

"Yeah, of course."

We walk past the door that was just slammed. I can faintly hear a grunt. That definitely gives me the wrong idea.

I drop Mom off at her room, and as she closes her door, Beckner's door opens.

"Hi, Aspen," he says.

"Hey, Beck. Do you want a tour?"

"Who wouldn't want a tour of the palace?" he says excitedly.

We walk down the main staircase while a girl walks down with us. Beck peers around me to look at her. She's tall, about his age, long legs, blonde hair. Beck's into blondes, so I've heard from him.

I walk down a few steps so I don't stand in between them.

"Hey, I'm Beckner Leger," he says. I roll my eyes with a silent smirk.

"Hi," the girl replies. "I'm May Schreave."

Shit, this is Maxon's sister.

"May? That's a beautiful name," Beck says smoothly. "Just like you."

I'd expect a courteous thanks, considering how she is Maxon's sister. Maybe even a flirtatious giggle, but the last thing I expect is a scoff.

"Oh, please," May says. "I bet you say that to every rich girl. I'd rather you not do that before my father finds out."

"I've actually never met a rich girl," Beckner replies sheepishly. "And you're the only beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"Beckner, I suggest you hit up on a girl that's actually allowed to date." May walks past me, her heels clacking down the marble.

Beck walks down to my step, and I nudge him. "You should go follow her. Her brother's a good guy, so I'm guessing that her attitude is just a front."

"What if I get lost, though?"

I can tell it's an excuse, so I just shove him a bit when we reach the landing.

"You can ask a maid or a guard for help, Beck. Stop stalling before you lose her."

Beck grins and jogs after May.

I instantly think about America. Where could _she _be?

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

"We're here," Officer Tanner says from the driver's seat.

"Thanks, Tanner," America says, getting out of the car before I do. "I owe you one."

"No problem," he replies. "I'll be back in precisely an hour. Don't be late, or there will be a lot of suspicious people waiting for you."

"Got it," America replies. I say my thanks as well, and I exit the car, careful with my aching back.

I'm not sure how I should feel now that America knows. I'm afraid that she won't choose me because of my father, but at the same time, I'm relieved that she knows. I feel like I can finally let every wall down now that she knows my biggest secret.

The place we've arrived at is nothing I expected. Maybe I was thinking along the lines of some derelict warehouse, or maybe an ivy-laden building. Instead, I find myself walking into a church, the stained-glass windows bright and shining. The church is literally five minutes away from the palace. It's hidden in a back road, and no one would stumble upon it unless they actually knew where it is.

America smiles at me, wrapping an arm around my torso. She really did a good job with my back. It's numb now only with the sporadic ache.

"America," I say. "Please take into consideration about what I said."

"About what?" she asks, her voice slightly hushed as we enter the church.

"About my father, and I'm serious. If you—"

"Oh, look," she says, interrupting me yet again. "There's Carter up on the altar. I'll go get Marlee from the sacristy."

She leaves my side, and I walk to Carter. He's surprisingly wearing a proper suit.

"Hi, Maxon," he says, holding out his hand.

I shake it. "Hey, Carter. How are you doing?"

"I'm grand," he says, a big grin on his face. "You?"

I consider an honest answer, seeing as how I'm in a church. "I've been better," I say. "Where did you get your attire?" I ask, trying to divert the topic of the state of my well-being.

"A maid sneaked one of my old suits from my closet."

"That's fortunate." I turn to the priest standing silently beside Carter. "Hello, Father," I say.

"Hello, Sir Maxon," he says. I tilt my head in confusion, wondering how he knows my name. "There is not a single citizen in Illéa who doesn't watch the Selection."

I chuckle at that. "I'm sure you know this is not a public ceremony," I say in a low voice.

"Oh, yes, most definitely," the priest replies. "Don't fret; I know how imperative my discretion is. Besides, I don't have any reason to disrupt a lovely couple's marriage."

Carter smiles even bigger, if that's possible. "Thank you, Father."

"Maxon," America whisper-yells. She beckons me over, and I go to the sacristy. Marlee is in a simple white gown that flows down. Three maids scuttle around her, rearranging her veil, touching up her makeup.

"I'm guessing the maids did a lot of help," I say, approaching Marlee.

The girls turn to me and smile. "Yes, they did," Marlee says, taking her bouquet. "The girls made my dress."

"Ah, yes," I say. "Are you Princess America's maids?"

The three girls nod, and I ask them to introduce themselves. The one who seems to be in charge is Anne; the other, Mary; and the shy one, Lucy.

"Thank you for being here, Maxon," Marlee says.

"Of course," I say. "Carter was a friend of mine. I'd be glad to do this anytime."

Marlee smiles, and I momentarily forget she's a maid. She's glowing, her excitement touching all of us.

"Marlee, you look beautiful," I say, thinking it would ease her nerves. I see America squirm a bit.

"Thank you, Maxon," she says, grinning. When the maids finish their fiddling, Marlee gives America a tight hug. I can hear a faint whisper, but I choose to ignore it.

I extend my arm to Marlee. "Are you ready?"

Marlee nods, and she looks anxious. "Yes."

America walks in front of Marlee and me, and we walk down the aisle together. Even without music, seeing all of this unfold is somehow magical. Carter is only looking at Marlee. I've never seen that emotion on any man. It's beautiful.

I place Marlee's hand in Carter's and whisper to him, "I know you'll take good care of her."

Carter smiles gratefully, and Marlee hands America her bouquet. I stand by Carter, while America stands by Marlee. The whole ceremony goes by more quickly than I thought it would. When they say their vows, I can see America tear up.

I faintly think that the next wedding I'll be attending might be ours.

Carter and Marlee walk out together, hand in hand. America thanks the priest, and she and I follow the newlyweds. There's a small car across the street that both of them enter. They wave at us and yell out their windows, "Thank you!"

America and I laugh, and I can't help but wrap my arms around her.

"Thank you for coming," she says on my chest.

"Of course," I say. "Anything for you, America."

She stays silent for a moment. "I know you love me," she blurts.

I'm surprised. I didn't think she'd say it so openly. "I know you love me too."

Her blue eyes look up at mine and widen, frozen with fear. "You don't know that."

"I do, actually. When you were talking to Aspen and me on the night of the Italian reception, you said something about the two guys you love."

I can almost see the gears turning in her head. "I'm sorry," America whispers. "I'm sorry this isn't easy for any of us. I'm sorry that I have feelings for two guys."

I don't say anything for a while. "You shouldn't be sorry for things that aren't your fault."

"If this were a simpler matter, I might pick you."

I look at her stunned, but I refuse naivete to overtake me. "Are you just saying that because you pity me?" I say, on the verge of accusatory. "Because my father abuses me?"

"No!" she says, stepping out of my hold. "If I picked guys because I pitied them, I would have picked Aspen because he's a Six."

"Right, Aspen."

"Maxon Schreave, don't you dare be that way with me," she says humorlessly. "I heard you tell Marlee she was beautiful."

"I was giving her away!" I say. "Don't you think she deserves a compliment?"

"I'd like a compliment every now and then," she mumbles.

"When was the last time we had a private conversation?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Last week? Two weeks ago? The night of the Italian reception?"

A car drives up to us, Officer Tanner in the front seat. "Get in," he says. "The affairs with the families and the king and queen are in a few minutes. You'll make it in time without anyone being suspicious."

I open the door for America, and she gets in, mumbling a thank you. I sit beside her. The short ride back is quiet and suffocating. She's sitting a mere two feet away, but it feels like there's an ocean between us.

I don't know what to do with myself anymore.

* * *

**May I please answer reviews tomorrow? My regular excuse—it's literally 12:45. I'm sorry. I did read every single review, and I loved every single one. I wake up to see those reviews/favorites/follows. You guys are the greatest, and I couldn't ask for better readers.  
**

**Thank you so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	23. Chapter 23

**Here are the responses for Chapter 21 reviews. You can skip ahead to the chapter :)**

**agb1700- Haha I wonder where I got THAT idea :P Thank you so much! Lurve ya!**

**PrincessIndia- I'm not sure if Aspen will ever find out. Oh, well. Alas, I cannot reveal my age for the entire world to see. However, if you really want to know, you can PM me :) Thanks so much!**

**krriordan- Clarkson. Sigh. Ohhh, that explains the smiley face. I love laughing. A lot. A shirtless Maxon makes me swoon. :) Thank you so much!**

**radflutakin- New reviewer! And tbh my idea for this story isn't original. At all. I mean, of course I need to provide back story and such, but really, this isn't anything special :) Still. Every review makes me swell with happiness. And thank you for the suggestion! I hope this chapter answers your question. Haha annoy me all you want. I'm not easily irritated. Wait...yes, I am. I love Maxerica too, and you sound like an America incarnate :P Thank you so much!**

**Selectioner452- I'm happy you like my "style" :P I'm not quite sure what it is, but oh, well. Thank you so much! **

**Kiren- Ooh, someone will die. I just can't tell who it will be.**

**piepie1289- Hahaha see it's usually two girls and one guy (because that's how men work *eye-roll*), but in this case it's two guys one girl, so it really is difficult to think how it would play out. Maybe Aspen would...O_O I'm gonna stop now. Thank you!**

**Devil WearW.W.- That's an awesome idea! Besides, someone assaulted a Selection candidate. Ooh, we're gonna get the action rolling. Lol thanks so much!**

**lovewords- I'm so glad you like this story :) Thank you!**

**theoneforever- Haha I like making people smile :D And that's soooo nice! _The One_ is like :O Come on, it's _The One_. That's such a huge compliment. Thank you so much!**

**Book addict 112- Thanks for reviewing!**

**winterprincess- Hope you liked the wedding :) Thanks so much!**

**Guest- Idk, will Clarkson die? Or the king? THANK YOU SO MUCH!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVEE123- I hoped you liked the wedding!**

**lilythemermaid- I was confused for a bit with the "..." then I sort of got it :P Summer makes you dumber. I love chocolate...So much. But not as much as you! *friendly punch to the shoulder...then runs through wall after realizing how weird that was* I'm hopeless... LALALOL**

**4Love4Love4- I'm glad you liked it :) Thanks so much!**

* * *

_America's POV_

Maxon and I are able to slink back into the palace without anyone's knowing. We split up; he going to the Men's Parlor and me to the guest rooms upstairs. I hate that everything a while ago was okay, then we get into another fight. It's like the waves of the ocean upon the sand, erasing every footprint and mark.

I knock on the girls' rooms and pick everyone up. When Ivy Leger sees me, she gives me a hug. I'm taken aback at first. I don't remember the last time I saw my little cousins. But I return her hug anyways.

"Princess America, I like your dress," Ivy says, holding my hand as I lead everyone else to the Women's Room. "Where do you get your dresses?"

"My maids make them for me."

"Did maids make my dress too?" she asks, grinning at her innocent question.

"Yes, they did."

"They're really good. How did they know my favorite color was purple?"

I smile. "They just know _everything._"

We get to the Women's Room, and my mother's already inside.

"Welcome, everyone," Mother says, approaching the lot of us.

Everyone curtsies, excluding myself. I leave Ivy's side to join my mother, and I give her a hug.

"Please, sit down," she says. "If you'd like, the mother could sit with me while the younger ones can sit with America."

The women follow my mother to one half of the room, while the girls and I settle in the other half. The maids bring in tea and cakes, and the girls look so excited to see food. I know I shouldn't laugh, but I do.

"So, everyone, tell me a bit about yourselves," I say, trying to get them to talk to me.

No one speaks out until Clancy's sister speaks up.

"Um, I'm Celeste," she says, fanning out her red dress. "I'm Clancy Newman's sister. We're Twos. I'm turning twenty-one in a few months. I model for a living, and I suppose that's about it."

They end up going in a circle, with May Schreave being next. "Hi, I'm May," she says, sitting up. "I'm Maxon Schreave's younger sister. I'm sixteen, and I shop for a living." We all laugh and giggle at that.

"I'm Celia—"

"And I'm Kamber," the other girl pipes up.

"We like theater," they say in unison. "And we're twins—"

"But I'm the older one," says Celia.

"We're both sixteen," Kamber says.

"And that's it," they say together.

The girl on Kamber's lap raises her hand. "I'm next, right?"

I smile and nod. "Okay, so I'm Ivy Leger. My big brother is Aspen, and my big sisters are Kamber and Celia." She taps her chin, trying to think of another fact about her. "I like strawberry tarts. They taste really good."

I keep that in mind. I guess I know what we'll be having for a dessert.

"What about you, your highness?" May says. "It's your turn."

The girls urge me to go on. I take a sip of my tea, hiding my grin. "First of all, each of you should call me America. I'm a girl, just like you, so I don't see the need to call me a princess when we're all the same."

The girls smile at me, and I'm grateful they don't think that I'm trying to rub it in their faces. These are real girls with lives too. It's hard to explain, but I just think it's so odd when women even older than I am treat me like I deserve it. I haven't done much for the country so far as I know. If they should be bowing to someone, it should be my parents.

"I love to sing," I start. "I play the piano, violin, and the flute. I like reading. And my favorite color is blue."

"Why is your name America?" Celia asks curiously. The girls look at me with inquisitive eyes.

"So I guess the story starts even from before I was born," I say. "My mother said I kicked a lot, and she and my father thought I was a fighter, like America, the country. I can be a bit stubborn and strong-willed sometimes, and I'm sure you saw that from the caning."

They all nod sympathetically.

"I'd like to be a bit more rebellious," I say, thinking about Marlee and Carter's wedding, "but it's a bit hard when advisers breathe down your neck telling you to do what they want. As much as I'd like to disobey, I can't disappoint the country.

"When I was younger—probably when I was eleven—I attended my first meeting with my dad, the king. I was so excited for everyone to hear my ideas, so I ended up speaking out of turn. The advisers weren't pleased, and my dad looked a bit sad that they were that way. I didn't want to upset my dad, so I just listened to every rule they spat."

The girls just smile and nod, not knowing what to say. They can't understand. I can only go as far as telling them to call me America, but in truth, the castes and protocol make us worlds apart.

"I know what you mean," May says, not looking at me. I'm surprised until I remember that her father is a politician. "My dad is someone you'd hate to upset."

I know why.

"I go out to parties and clubs every night to escape my house," she continues. "I'm practically a bitch to everyone I meet. I hate the person I've become just to evade and tolerate my father."

Kamber turns to May. "You won't get anywhere in Life running away from your problems."

"Don't defy him," Celia adds, "but don't avoid him. After all, he is your father."

An abusive one at that.

"May," Ivy says, "you have to appreciate your daddy before he leaves and poof! He's gone."

May frowns. "What do you mean?"

Celia sighs. "Our father died when we were really young."

"I don't even remember him," Ivy says. "I just know what he looks like from the pictures."

Aspen never told me that. It hurts knowing that he has built a wall to conceal his feelings.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

"It's alright," Kamber says. "Even if we are Sixes, we love each other and help each other out."

That strikes me as inspiring. Aspen's family, an entire household without a father, can love each other. I compare it to Maxon's family, and it's so strange and expected that his is so different. The Legers don't have a father, but they have Aspen supporting everyone. And still, they manage to love each other.

Whereas the Schreaves have a sizable family, and both parents, yet the father abuses everyone. It makes me wonder if there is still love binding them together.

"Why are you an only child?" Ivy blurts innocently.

"Ivy," Kamber scolds, but I shake my head.

"No, it's okay," I say. "I'll answer that one."

I take a breath. This isn't a story I normally tell, but these girls are different from others. They're not too different from Daphne and Nicoletta.

"My mother had plenty of miscarriages," I say, low and hushed so the group of women don't hear me. "Everyone was of course hoping for a baby, but more importantly, a baby boy. When I was born, the country must have known that I would be the only heir in this family. Instead of selling me to another country, my parents decided to give me my own Selection."

"You know what's funny," Celeste says. We all look at her, and she says, "You can spell _miscarriage _with _America Singer._"

We all chuckle at the revelation.

"How ironic," I say.

We're all quiet for a while, letting that sink in. May drinks her tea, glancing at the Leger girls every so often. She looks almost jealous.

Then May catches me looking and grins sneakily at me. "Who's your favorite boy in the competition?"

"Ooh, yeah!"

"Tell us."

"We'll keep it a secret."

"Is it _my _brother?"

I almost choke on my tea.

"I'm not allowed to have favorites," I say, trying to gather my bearings.

"But you have one," Celeste teases. "We can tell on the _Report_, and I'm sure as hell it isn't my brother. He's too...full of himself."

I smile a bit.

"Is it Aspen?" Celia and Kamber say. "I won't tell him."

"Or is it Maxon?" May says next, sounding like it's already a known fact."

"_Or_," Celeste says, a mischievous gleam in her eye, "she has _two _favorites and that she loves _two _guys."

Five pairs of eyes widen, including my own.

"I refuse to talk about the Selection," I say. Not quite as eloquent as I'd like to be, but it's good enough.

We end up talking about other stuff—movies, singers, actors, books, and the inevitable topic, boys. It turns out May has a little crush on Beckner Leger, and she makes his sisters—and even Celeste and me—swear that we won't tell a soul. Celeste says she's in to a guy from her province, but she whispers to me that if I don't end up choosing Maxon or Aspen, she'll whisk them away from me faster than I can blink an eye. This girl worries me, yet her confidence makes me like her.

"Hey," Celeste says suddenly, looking out the window. "What's that all about?"

We all crane our necks to look outside, and what I see makes me blink twice. It's my father walking around the gardens with Maxon, his blond hair unmistakable even from afar. It seems like my father's asking Maxon some questions, and the poor boy looks a bit worried, yet his posture is assertive despite his barely healed back.

After a few seconds, my father claps a hand on his back, and Maxon winces. May and I gasp at the same time, and she looks at me with horrified eyes. I subtly nod my head, and we return back to talking.

"Whoa, whoa, here comes another one," Celeste says while in the middle of Celia and Kamber's banter.

We all rotate, like our heads are made to pointed at the sight. Aspen's black hair glistens while he speaks with my father. They're both very intense, that much I can tell. Aspen gesticulates properly to prove his point. His mettle shows with every word he speaks, every step he takes.

They both smile and shake hands, then head back inside.

"I bet you Clancy and that other dude won't be coming out," Celeste says.

And she's right.

"Well," May says decidedly, "now we know who America's favorites are."

And just like that, the entire competition shifts.

I'm going to eliminate to the final two tomorrow.

* * *

**Ooooooh.**

**Oh, and birthday shout-out to The Devil Wears Westwood, even though her birthday was on Tuesday. I totally forgot, and when I woke up today I totally thought it was only Monday. I'm going to miss summer. I start classes in two weeks. *passes out***

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**Kiren- Beckner and May...Meckner? Bay? Becknay? Idk. That rhymed. Huh. I hope you learned why May is the way she is, even though she's not really like that. And yeah, it's fanfic :P Thanks so much!**

**Jaz- Lo siento por la lucha de America y Maxon. Pero que a va mejorar! No te preocupes. Seguir leyendo por favor. Sino, tambien esta bien. Yo soy Team Maxerica tambien! Lo siento si este no se le entiende. Yo no usar Google Translate. Pero gracias por el revision! **

**Mhpropp16- I'm glad you loved the wedding scene! It was fun to write :) Thanks so much!**

**Catherine du Beau- Hey, new reviewer! I'm not a pro :P Not at all. And who doesn't love Maxerica? And remember that even though I am the writer, it does not mean I don't take every suggestion/wish into consideration. But I guess you'll have to wait and see ;) Thank you so much!**

**Guest- Thank YOU for reading! **

**piepie1289- At first, I saw your review and I was like "EXCUSE ME? GURL I WILL CUT YOU." Then I read that line again and laughed. I'm so sorry. It was legit nine in the morning and I just woke up. My sleeping habits are so awful. I'm glad you understand! Thanks so much!**

**lovewords- Yes, Aspen heard Maxon being whipped :( Hahahaha you're in love with MY Aspen? That means a lot to me :) Thank you soooo much! I promise there will be an Asperica scene verrrry soon :)**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Haha *aggressively whispers* OTP. Love them too. Happy birthday! Sorry, it's 1 a.m. and I'm kinda losing it. *sigh* Thank you so much!**

**kassoug4- New reviewer? Idek anymore. Of course Maxon still has a chance! Everyone does! Sort of. Oh, well. Thank you so much!**

**winterprincess- It's quite tumultuous, their relationship. Oh, well. :) Thanks so much!**

**theoneforever- Haha your "AHHHHH...!" was so long I had to scroll my screen horizontally :P That's never happened before. I think the website is crashing :P Thank you so much!**

**lilythemermaid- Eek! You're so nice. Legiterally, so nice. I'm not getting tired, if you ask me :) Thank you so much! LALOL**

**4Love4Love4- I. Know. He said he doesn't know what to do with himself! Ah! :P Thanks so much!**

**Maria- New reviewer! I'm so glad you love my story! I hope you enjoy the other ones too :) Thank you so much!**

**krriordan- Haha begging on your knees. That's really funny. Idk if Maxerica is endgame. Really, I have no idea. Thanks so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	24. Chapter 24

_Aspen's POV_

"So," King Shalom says, "Mister Leger—"

"Please, Your Majesty," I say, "call me Aspen."

The king smiles. "Very well. Aspen, how has your stay at the palace been?"

"Magnificent, Sir," I say. I feel like I'm being interrogated. When Maxon came back from talking to the king, Maxon literally looked like he was in pain. Is this really going to be that bad? "The palace is quite a difference from my home in Carolina."

The king chuckles. "This could end up being your life for a very long time," he says. "Should my daughter choose you, you'll be living here forever, and as king."

"Yes, Sir, it's a life I never could have imagined," I say, trying to be cryptic.

"Now that you're part of the Elite, do you imagine a life as king?"

I consider it. I can't really say I'd be king, or a good one at that. I'm not that...calculating. "To be honest, Sir," I start, "I imagine myself as prince but not as king."

The king furrows his brows. "How so?"

"To start, I see kings as men fit to rule a country and control the people. It is a king's duty to make sure his land is at peace. Princes seem to do the more, uh, 'less complicated' work. Kings are powerful, while princes are not so much so."

"Do you have a problem with ruling a country?" he asks, testing me. "Is that the reason you deem yourself unfit to be king?"

I shake my head. "I don't think that far ahead, Sir. I said I can only imagine myself as prince, because that is truly what I can imagine. I see myself as prince with you as my father-in-law and maybe a close adviser. But no matter what, Sir, I promise to be by America's side. Always."

"Do you think you have a chance at winning the Selection?" King Shalom asks.

I nod with the utmost confidence and bravery. "Yes, Sir, I believe I will be able to stand out above all the other men."

"Do you love my daughter, Aspen?" he asks, stopping his walk to face me.

"I do, Sir," I say. "I've never wanted to care so much for a girl. She's smart, beautiful, talented...She'd make an excellent queen, no matter who is her husband and king."

The king smiles, and I feel like the exam is over. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Aspen."

He shakes my hand, and I shake his firmly.

"Likewise, Sir," I say.

The king smiles, and we both go back inside.

I sit down next to Maxon, who's talking one of Jay's brothers. But soon, Eli Huang is taken away by Jay himself.

Maxon turns to me. "Did the king grill you too?"

I nod. "Yeah, it was okay."

"Okay?" Maxon jokingly scoffs. "It was like I committed a crime, and I was interrogated by the chief."

I chuckle, and a tall, purposeful figure joins us. "Hello, Maxon," the man says, whom I'm assuming is Clarkson Schreave. "Who is this?" He gestures to me.

I stand and extend my hand. "Aspen Leger of Carolina, Sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes," Clarkson Schreave says. "The lowest caste left, yes?"

I hate his effort to degrade me. Maxon does nothing to stop him. "Yes, Sir, and I am proud of it too," I say.

"Do you really think you will win?" he says haughtily. "Among two Twos, one Three, and one Four, do you really think a measly Six will have a chance?"

I shove my hands in my pockets so he won't see my curled fists. "I believe that every man here has an equal chance, Sir."

"Except my son has connections, and—"

"Sir," I say, daring to cut off his tirade, "I believe this will ultimately be Princess America's choice, and the girl I know her to be is not biased by caste or connections."

Clarkson Schreave clenches his jaw. "Well, we will see who ends up on top." The hulking man storms away to speak with the king.

I look at Maxon. He's just staring at the floor, his hands folded like a tepee. "What the hell was that?" I say, sitting back down.

"I'm sorry," he says, sounding truly apologetic. "I really wanted to say something."

"Then why didn't you?" I ask furiously. "He was just bullying me—"

"That's all my father is," Maxon says, his eyes cutting into mine. "He's a bully, and it's your choice to decide whether or not you let yourself get bullied."

"Right," I say, almost ashamed for placing the blame on Maxon. He has to live with this man.

"You did a good job handling yourself, by the way," he says. "I never would have been able to do that."

"Why not? Would you be punished or something?"

"I can't say. I'd be living a lifetime of hell if I told you."

I simply nod and think about my own father. I think America would have liked him. He was smart, brave, even to the very end. It's so weird how Maxon is probably one of the richest kids in Illéa, and yet.

Maxon seems like he's doing fine, like everything in the world is great.

It suddenly feels like we're both at the same level, he with his father and me with my caste, though I don't believe I physically suffer from being a Six. Maxon has it all, yet nothing at the same time.

At least I know both of my parents loved me.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

I check myself one last time in the mirror before going to the Great Room. I was told I had to be present an hour before the Easter Ball starts, but my father always taught me to be punctual. I'm here fifteen minutes early. I'm sure he's waiting for me to be late right now.

As soon as I enter, I find out I'm right. He's standing there with his arms crossed, talking to Jay's father, while surreptitiously looking for me to enter—or rather, to not. His almost imperceptible scowl reaches me, and I turn away to look for someone who actually respects me. A maid leads me to a table with multicolored wooden baskets. One says _Maxon _on the handle, so I watch out for that one. I'll get mine when everyone else gets theirs.

May and Gerad walk in with several of the other siblings. They're all talking as if castes and age do nothing to separate them. It's amazing, really. I wish adults could be more like these children.

Aspen walks in next, and he approaches me. He points at the baskets. "What are these?" he asks.

I shrug. I have no clue what we're doing.

The Great Room soon fills up with the rest of the Elite and their parents. America walks in and smiles. She looks magnificent. Her forest green dress is such a contrast to her bright red hair, but she's beautiful all the same.

"Welcome, everyone!" she says, gathering our attention. "I appreciate your coming early for our special tradition at the palace."

I frown at Aspen, and America says, "We're going to do an Easter Egg Hunt!"

I've heard of these things.

"There are sixty hidden in the palace," America continues. "Use those baskets over there. Whoever gets the most receives a prize. Don't worry about forgotten eggs that might get rotten. The staff know exactly where they are. However, I do not, so don't think about asking me for hints." We all laugh at that. "There is one hint I will give you, but it's more of a rule: There are no eggs on the third floor, so there is no need to go there. Also, every egg is within the palace grounds, meaning there are some out in the gardens. The guards will explain how far from the building you can get. Both ladies and gentlemen are permitted in the Women's Room and Men's Parlor. Is everything clear?"

We mumble our yeses and nod. "Alright, let the Hunt begin!"

Every one—excluding the parents, Jay's older brothers, and Clancy's older sister, who seem more interested in martinis and talking than a seemingly childish tradition—grabs a basket and leaves the Great Room.

I start with the stone bench outside in the gardens. I know America doesn't know the location of the eggs, but I feel like one is there. I check under the bench and smile victoriously when I see a bright blue egg. I check the nearby bushes and flower beds and find five more.

I want to give everyone a sporting chance, so I leave the gardens knowing there are probably more there. I find one in the Men's Parlor under a throw pillow and another in the theater.

The hour is up, and we all return to the Great Room. I have eight eggs, and really, I don't mind if I don't win a prize. I feel like this is more for the little kids, and I'm glad that they have a chance to do something fun here.

We all count our eggs, and Ivy Leger ends up winning with eleven eggs. Aspen's little sister is beaming with pride and excitement, and she's so happy that we all break into grins.

"Ivy gets a special prize!" America says. A chef comes out with a giant platter of strawberry tarts. Ivy looks like she's going to melt then and there. She runs to America first and hugs her legs.

"Thank you!" Ivy squeals, and America picks her up.

"You deserve it, Ivy," America says. She looks so comfortable with the small child that it's hard to imagine she has no younger siblings.

The chef sets the platter down on a table, and Ivy hops on the chair and starts eating.

The king stands up with his wineglass and taps it with his utensil. "Everybody, guests will start arriving in several minutes. For the meantime, enjoy yourselves."

The adults return to talking, and the Elite sit down together, while the siblings sit on a separate table.

"I thought that Hunt or whatever was stupid," Clancy says with a glower.

Jay rolls his eyes. "Come on. You're only saying that because a seven-year-old beat you."

"Ooh," we all jeer.

It's Clancy's turn to roll his eyes. "Shut up, Huang. They probably rigged it so the kid would win. I mean, would the prize be strawberry tarts for all of us?"

It's actually a good point, but Aspen retorts, "I bet it would be different for all of us, Newman. You'd probably get a gag for that humongous mouth of yours."

We all jeer at him again, and Clancy slouches in his seat quasi-indifferently. "Whatever."

I hope he leaves soon.

* * *

_America's POV_

The Easter Ball is well underway, and the room is stuffed like a Grateful Feast turkey. Everyone's laughing and having a good time. Noemi and Orabella are on champagne again, and they celebrate like gods on wine.

The little ones look like they're having fun. I see Beckner Leger and May talking, and I wonder if that's ever going to become something more.

This is the last celebration before the final elimination. I'm not sure if I'm moving this too fast, but I don't want to drag it out either. I know who I want, and I haven't cared about what the advisers say since I was thirteen. I believe that what I'm doing is right, and that's good enough for me.

I want to warn Aspen and Maxon first so that they're not totally unaware of things. I find the both of them, both dancing with their own sisters.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," I say to both sisters, "but I need to talk to him."

When I have both guys, I lead them out to a hidden hallway obstructed from view.

"America, what's wrong?" Maxon asks.

"Are you okay?" Aspen says.

"I'm fine, I just—"

I'm cut off by a loud, piercing wail. The three of us cover our ears.

"What is that?" Maxon and Aspen shout above the siren.

I grab both of their hands and run for the nearest safe room. "The rebel alarm."

* * *

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. It would be pointless to tell you, but yeah. Dad's getting mad at me, so reviews tomorrow.**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	25. Chapter 25

**Sorry my updates have been sporadic as of late. You can see my complete explanation at my A/N on my other story "The End". **

**Responses to reviews for Chapter 23 here. Feel free to skip ahead. And maybe if you want, you can listen to "The Scientist" to add effect to this chapter. **

**Kiren- I can't guarantee that someone won't die. Sorry not sorry :P That's an interesting question. To be honest, I'd want to be May. I mean, I'd have clothes, I could go to clubs, that sounds sooooo fun. I mean, I love my family, but sometimes my family can be so strict and overbearing. I just want an entire day of doing what I want, you know? Besides, Maxon would be my brother ;-) He'd make a sweet boyfriend/husband but an even sweeter brother :) AND Amberly's my mom. THAT'S cool stuff. I don't quite understand your "I hate this stuff, but I read this stuff". Could you explain a bit? Opinions mean a lot to me, so if you want to say anything to improve it, say something! Thank you so much!**

**theoneforever- Haha I do that ALL the time :) I'm sooo glad you liked it! And ALL of her books combined? Oh, my gosh! Thank you sooooo much!**

**agb1700- Glad you lurved it! Thank you so much! Lurve ya!**

**guest- You're welcome for the update! Sorry this one took so long. Thanks so much!**

**lovewords- Aw, thank you! I'm sorry I didn't update soon enough. I'm glad you like both Asperica and Maxerica :) To be honest, I feel like I changed the story so much that I love both Maxon and Aspen. I don't know who she'll end up with either! It's awful, I know. :P Thank you so much!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- My story is so twisted it's not just a "twist" anymore. It's more of a messed up pretzel. :P Thank you so much!**

**Book addict 112- Sorry my update took forever! Thank you so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Haha but Celeste is nice! Who's to say it won't be Maleste? Holy shit that's a terrible ship name. NoTP. :P We'll see what happens ;) Thanks so much!**

**fantasybookgirl- Final two! Thank you!**

**winterprincess- Yeah, I like nice people. :) Thanks so much!**

**EruditeAbnegationMockinjay- Sorry the update took forever! Thank you for reviewing!**

**lilythemermaid- Your new profile pic's supah cute ;) Would you get mad at me if I changed my profile pic to the one of me taking a picture? That one I sent to you once? I just didn't want to copy you. No matter how much I love someone, I don't copy them and stuff. So I'm kind of asking permission here? Idk, it's fine if you say no too. Then again you might not end up seeing this at all. Oh, well. LALOL**

**ilona18- I like Celeste in this fic too :P Thanks so much!**

**wiseowl19- New reviewer! I'm so glad you love my story, even to that extent! Thank you so much for reviewing! **

**krriordan- Glad you liked the update! I do love Maxerica, but tbh I have no idea who will win. Thank you so much!**

**HorseGalFangirl9- Haha awkward fangirl faces. I would win a million Oscars for those :P Thanks so much!**

**letcia- Your English is perfectly fine! There are a lot of other reviewers who don't speak English as well as you :) If it's more comfortable for you, you can review in Portuguese and I'll Google Translate it :) Thank you for taking the time to review!**

**SS120550- New reviewer! Aw, I love you guys too! I'm sorry I'm not updating regularly anymore. Especially since classes start in a week for me! Thank you so much!**

**Maria- I'm glad you love all of my stories! That means so much to me. "The Fire" is finished, but "The End" is being continued still. Go check it out! Thank you so much!**

**radflutakin- Yay! Love ya too! Thanks so much!**

**TheForgottenGirl- I'll slow down the pace in a bit. Don't you worry :) Thank you for telling me that though! **

**selectionguest- I'm delighted to hear you love my story! Thank you so much!**

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

I've heard about rebel attacks. They seemed like a myth until now.

America lays her palm flat against the wall far enough away from the Great Room. Her hand finds a slightly depressed part and pushes it. The wall slides open, revealing a small, dark chamber that leads to a set of stairs. America wordlessly shoves Maxon and me inside, and the wall slides closed, blocking the screams and cries of the guests in the Great Room.

Mer slides past us and leads us down to what I'm assuming is a safe room. I don't really know what I was expecting. Maybe fancy lights and a velvet couch? Definitely not dank, stone walls, a decrepit metal bench, and a crude sink and toilet.

I guess not everything in the palace is glamorous.

"I don't understand," America mutters, pulling on a cord that turns on a dim light bulb. "There hasn't been a rebel attack since I was eleven."

"You mean the last rebel attack was eight years ago?" Maxon asks, taking a seat on the bench.

"You'd think that my father did enough," America says, not paying attention to Maxon. "Eight years, and they're back. What the hell?" She says it like it's a boring answer to an even more boring question.

I jog up the stairs again and press my ear to the door and check if maybe the rebels are gone. But the door is soundproofed, and I can't hear a thing. I sigh.

"How long do these things usually last?" I say when I get back to the safe room. They're both sitting on the bench, a mere two feet in between them. I want to maybe sit in between them, but I think that's a jackass move, so I resort to leaning against the cold stone wall.

Mer shrugs. "Thirty minutes at least? It never lasts longer than an hour."

"Why the attacks?" Maxon asks. "The country has never been happier. I don't see why the rebels still exist."

She shrugs again. It strikes me how much she doesn't know, and she's the princess. Even_ she_ is kept in the dark.

The safe room is filled with chilled silence. I feel like I'm in a refrigerator, and I'm already frozen. I slide down to the ground, and we all stay that way for maybe five minutes until America speaks.

"You two are probably wondering why I got you a while ago in the first place."

Maxon nods, as do I, but I admit to myself that it slipped my mind.

"I wanted to warn you guys," America says.

"Are we being eliminated?" I ask numbly, staring at the ground.

"No!" She says it like I've just offended her. She clears her throat. "No," she says, much calmer. "I wanted to say that I was bringing the Elite to the final two tomorrow."

At that, I look up, and it's good to see that Maxon is a bit shocked too. "But why—?" Maxon starts.

"Because I know who I want among you four," she says, shy and almost ashamed.

This goes without saying that she likes Maxon and me. The only question standing now is whom she likes more, but clearly, she doesn't know the answer either.

"Um, this must be really awkward," Mer says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let's play a game," Maxon says. We both look at him like he just grew an extra limb, and he says, "Better than doing nothing."

"My father always did that during a rebel attack," she says.

I suddenly feel stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

Determined to one-up Maxon, I say, "Do you want to play two truths and a lie?"

"How do you play it?" America asks, joining me on the floor. Maxon soon joins until we're sitting in a triangular sort of circle.

I feel like a child, but I explain the game anyway. "You say three statements about yourself. Two will be something true, and one will be false. You two have to guess which one is the lie. So for example," I say, pausing to think of some, "I have green eyes, I have blonde hair, and I'm human."

"So the lie would be you have blonde hair?" America says.

"Wait," Maxon says, slightly grinning, "what if you're actually a robot and a natural blonde with dyed hair?"

We all laugh, but it sounds forced and uncomfortable in the small room.

"I'll go first then," I say. "I've always wanted to be a palace guard, I have a dog named Farley...and I had a dream that I was a superhero."

America laughs. "The first one."

Maxon shakes his head, smiling too. "The second one. I don't think you own a dog, Leger."

I nod. "You go next then."

"Um, I like it when people tell me what to do," he starts, "I've always wanted to be a photographer, and, uh, I've only kissed one girl."

"The third one," I say.

Maxon shakes his head, the slightest of grins on his face. "You have that much faith in my charmingly good looks, Leger?"

I punch his arm lightly. "Shut up, Schreave."

"The first one," Mer says. "You hate orders."

Maxon nods. "You're next."

She laughs. "I'm not good at this stuff. Um, my favorite color is green. I wish that I had siblings. When I was eleven during a rebel attack, I ran in the woods and climbed a tree."

"Damn, Mer," I say. "The last one I can actually see you doing."

Maxon chuckles. "That's what I was going to say. My bets are on the first one."

"Same here," I add.

She smiles. "You got me. My favorite color's blue."

That ends up being the stopping point, as we've run out of things to say.

"Do people get hurt during rebel attacks?" I ask.

"Not usually," America says. "Unless it's a Southern rebel attack. They're the ruthless ones. Their actual goal is to harm, while the Northern rebels are more the type to pester."

_There are two groups of rebels? _One is reckless enough; two is just deadly. Combined? What might happen is unimaginable.

The safe room wall opens, and I stand up. I peer around the corner and sigh out of relief that it's just a palace guard. I turn to Maxon and Mer, who are both standing up as well.

"It's a guard," I say. They exhale like I did, and the three of us walk upstairs.

"Give me stats, Tanner," America says, striding alongside the guard.

"Southern, five dead, thirteen injured," Officer Tanner replies.

Mer buries her hands in her red hair. "Oh, my God. Are my parents alright?"

"Your father wasn't in the safe room."

America gasps.

"But we found him. They're all fine. They were in the main safe room, as well as the guests."

"What about our families?" I ask.

He doesn't answer.

We follow the guard to an open wall, frenzied and wide-eyed people spilling out of it. They all speak in different languages, but no matter the dialect, they're all angry and afraid.

I don't expect them to be coming back happily anytime soon.

* * *

_America's POV_

_Dad. Dad. Where the hell is my dad?_

"America!" a voice bellows. I turn to the right and sprint to my dad. He encases me in his arms, and I hug him like I haven't seen him in a century.

"Shalom," another voice calls, and my mother joins our little group hug.

"Are you two alright?" Dad says.

We both nod against his strong chest. Then my mother disbands to give me a separate hug.

"America, honey, where were you?! I was worried sick!"

"I was talking to Aspen and Maxon, and I brought them to the nearest safe room," I say.

"Kitten, that was very responsible of you," Dad says, kissing the top of my head.

"Are the Elite's families okay?" I ask Mom.

She opens her mouth until I hear a pained cry. I whip my head around and run to the sound.

Oh, my God.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

"Father?" I say through my tears, shaking his shoulders. "Father? Please. Please. Somebody get some help!" I yell.

But I know he's too far gone.

I hold my mother to my chest, and May and Gerad cry on me as well. I can't feel anything anymore. I hate that my last memories of him are so dreadful.

My father's dead.

* * *

**You might have seen that coming.**

**EruditeAbnegationMockinjay- One word: Thanks!**

**Kiren- So, so sorry about the lack of daily updates. Hope you enjoyed this one! Sort of...Thanks so much!**

**lovewords- Three of them in a room. Awk? Idk. Thank you!**

**winterprincess- Rebels come at the most inopportune times, yeah? I wonder who America's going to choose too! Thanks so much!**

**Carolina Guest- New reviewer! Thanks for considering my father :) Thank you so much!**

**Book addict 112- Sorry for not updating sooner. Thanks so much!**

**Devil WW- Was it interesting? Idk. Thanks so much!**

**4Love4Love4- This was a cliff hanger :) Thank you so much!**

**Theoneforever- Amazing? Thank you!**

**krriordan- Glad you loved it! Thank you!**

**TheForgottenGirl- I'm so glad you like it! Thank you so much!**

**ilona18- Glad you loved it! Thank you!**

**HorseGalFangirl9- Haha is that a threat? :P Jk thank you so much!**

**Maria- Oh, Clancy :) Thank you so much!**

**lilythemermaid- Haha awkwardness is the best. Awww Maxon. O, idk if you saw my comment to you at the very beginning, but can I change my profile pic to the one where I was taking a pic too? I was going to do it before you changed yours, I swear, and I don't want you to think I'm the clingy bitch friend. If it's not okay, it's fine too. Just wanted to "ask permission". Thank you so much! LALOL**

**PayMeInGlitter- Ahhhhh I can't say if Aspen wins! I just don't know who wins :) Thanks so much!**

**eruditedemigod- Glad you love it! Thank you!**

**Yoshi96- New reviewer! Glad you're reading this! Thanks so much!**

**piepie1289 Ugh, I'm definitely not a morning person. I love staying up at night. Really. :) Thanks so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	26. Chapter 26

**Someone (piepie1289) said I should put a song pertaining to every chapter, and I thought this song kind of reminded me of Amberly: "Can't Say Goodbye" by Josh Gracin. **

_Maxon's POV_

It's another day clad in black. The Elite's families offer my family their condolences, but it does little to comfort. My father is—or, I guess, _was_—abusive, but he's still my father. He still worked to feed us, we had a nice roof over our heads, we had clothes to wear, the kids still ended up existing. My Life has never been dreadful. I just had to cooperate.

We're still in Angeles, a little ways away from the palace. Mom's eyes are red and puffy, and I take her hand as we exit the limousine. We're in a lavish garden with lush green. Mom decided that Clarkson should rest somewhere peaceful, unlike the way he died. He was shot, a bullet straight through his heart. I always thought this happened in action movies or adventure novels, not my Life. My Life is nonfictional. This doesn't happen.

We arrive and about a thousand seats surround the burial place. My father was a politician, so it's only expected to see this many chairs.

My father is the only one that died of the Elite's family. I'm just glad everyone else is okay.

When we reach the front of the row of chairs, I'm surprised to see my older siblings, Kenna and Kota. Kenna rushes to Mom, and they embrace and cry because they didn't know they would reunite like this. Kenna's husband, James, holds a tiny bundle of pink in his arms. Astra is crying, like she knows what just happened to the grandfather she never met. Kota looks more pissed than sad, and I suddenly want to punch him. What right does he have to disrespect our father, even if he was cruel?

However, Kota still gives Mom a comforting hug, and the funeral begins once everyone is seated. The Elite and their families are also here, mourning for us. America and her parents sit on the other side of the aisle.

The coffin is already before us, and the priest starts his sermon. I recognize him as the priest who said Carter and Marlee's wedding.

My Mom speaks a eulogy for Father, and it astounds me how much she says she loves him. She's the only one who speaks on his behalf. Being a sadistic father and a ruthless politician, I assume people are more relieved than despairing. But my mom's teary confession springs tears to everyone's eyes.

I try to focus on the good memories with my father. He took us to a beach once, before May was born. He and I made a sandcastle, and he promised me that I would live in a palace someday. I guess he was right. There was also another time where he took me to New Asia on a business trip. It was a nice vacation, just he and I, but I somehow felt like it was more of a test.

Even then, he was testing me.

But he's still my father, the man who raised me and taught me manners and languages. Things like that mustn't be overlooked.

The funeral ends, and more people come to comfort us. America reaches me and gives me a tight embrace.

"Are you okay?" she whispers.

I can vaguely feel myself nod. I'm not happy he's dead, but I'm not exactly sad. It's such a ridiculous feeling to not know what you're feeling. It's a paradox. Or is it an oxymoron? I feel like my father would have told me the quasi-obvious answer.

The fact that he's gone doesn't bother me as much as how this happened. He was _murdered. _That can't be overlooked either. I guess I would be more nonchalant if he died of an overdose of alcohol or drugs, because then I would know it was his own fault.

But someone else did this.

America pulls back to look in my eyes, and I muster a smile for her, to show her that I'm somewhat alright. She knows my secret anyway.

She moves on to May, who's crossing her arms and trying to suck in her tears. But when America hugs her, the tears spill out. The queen and king even come to console us, Queen Magda going as far as giving me a loose hug.

The Elite come next. Clancy, Grayson, and Jay were supposed to be gone this morning, but since the rebel attack was last night, everyone's still pretty rattled. I'm assuming America's eliminating them tonight.

When Aspen comes, the utmost sincerity and sympathy shows on his face. He pats my back. "You okay?" he asks.

I shrug.

"Just a warning, it's going to hit you at the most unexpected times," he says, shuffling a bit. "When my dad died, I was kind of denial, but I had to man-up for the family." He smiles, as if remembering something. "But then again, you're the middle child. Your older siblings will do that for you, yeah?"

I shake my head. "Kenna has her own family to take care of, and Kota's roaming the country as a jackass. So you're right; I guess I'll be the one supporting the family now."

Aspen smiles sadly. "If you need any consoling or if you want to talk or whatever, you know where to find me."

I nod, and he walks back to his family.

* * *

_America's POV_

"I apologize for the rebel attack," I say pathetically during dinner. I couldn't really do anything about it except for keeping Maxon and Aspen safe. I have no idea what it would feel like for me to lose my father. I would die myself.

"I'm eliminating to the final two," I announce. Every head turns to me, surprised and confused, except for Aspen and Maxon. It strikes me that the men I'm keeping have both lost their fathers.

"After dinner, the eliminated ones may go home with their families tonight," I continue. It's funny how Grayson, Clancy, and Jay slump forward and accept defeat when I haven't even said anything yet.

"The men who will remain at the palace are Aspen Leger and Maxon Schreave," I say. "If anyone wants to speak with me, I'll be in the library." I meet Maxon's eye, and I tug my ear. Much to my dismay, he shakes his head. I understand his rejection; I'd probably want to be left alone as well.

I leave the room, and footsteps trail behind me.

When I enter, I turn around and find Clancy. He has a mocking scowl on his face. "Are you keeping them because you pity them?" he spits. "That is low, America Singer."

I clench my jaw. "Excuse me, but I am the princess, and if you assault me in any way again, I will bring you to the dungeons myself."

He leaves, and that is my only visit for the night.

* * *

**I got somewhat mixed reactions to Clarkson's death. But yeah. I ship #Maxpen :P Brooomance.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**ilona18- Glad you loved it! And who wouldn't want to comfort Maxon? Even when he's not sad, I want to hug him. Ugh Maxon is the epitome of perfect men. Sigh. Someone make him real! Thanks so much!**

**eruditedemigod- Yup it is! Can't guarantee that's the only suspense ever happening. Thanks so much!**

**Theoneforever- Haha no one likes Clarkson. That's so sad. Captivating? That's such an incredible word to use :) Thank you so much!**

**piepie1289- Aw I love you and all my reviewers too! And thanks for giving me the idea. I might just be doing it every chapter from now on. Thanks so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- I love Maxon so much. I would propose to him in a jiffy :P I can't guarantee this will end Asperica or Maxerica, so everyone still has hope! Who knows, maybe America's into polygamy? :P Jk. And thanks for the ideas. I'm probably going to use them sometime in the future with a different twist or something, but yeah. I hope I remember to give you credit... Thank you so much!**

**lovewords- You summarized the entire chapter with your review :P I love Maxon no matter what, but I like my version of Aspen better :P I'm just that self-aggrandizing :) Thank you so much!**

**4Love4Love4- Oh, haha glad I still surprised ya! Amberly isn't dead...YET. Jk. Probably. Maybe. And a gift? Aw, thank you sooooo much!**

**dakotamo- Aw I'm glad you still teared up, and it makes me happy that my writing affected you :) Thanks so much!**

**Guest- Awww this was so sweet! Thank you so much! Not everyone understands :D **

**Kiren- Yeah, I knew some people would expect Clarkson to die.**

**agb1700- Hahaha the emoticon :P Thank you soooo much! Lurve ya! **

**Maria- Idk Clarkson was pretty horrible, so I wouldn't exactly hold it against you. Thank you so much!**

**radflutakin- Yeah, deaths aren't supposed to be happy occasions. My favorite color is blue, but I'm starting to love the color red :) Thank you so much!**

**YourBiggestFan- Awwwww your username is soooo sweet! Thank you so much!**

**Blondie115- New reviewer! And all 25? Wow, that's spectacular! Thank you for taking the time to do that! Thank you sooooo much!**

**Book addict 112- There might be some Asperica on the way :) Thank you so much!**

**fantasybookgirl- I'm glad you liked this chapter! Thanks so much!**

**HorseGalFangirl9- I sense a PJO fan? Haha thanks so much!**

**maxonismine- Excuse me, but Maxon is MINE. :P Totally joking (but not really). Haha the headlines. Can you imagine if I ended the chapter right there with Clarkson dying. Worst author ever! Thanks so much!**

**krriordan- Mixed feelings? Yeah, other people feel it too. :P Thanks so much!**

**fanficforev- New reviewer! Of course I'll respond to you! It really means so much to me when people review, and I think the least I could do is respond to them :) I'm so happy you like it! Thank you so much!**

**winterprincess- Yeah, it's really the rest of the Schreaves. Except for Kota. What a douchepants :/ Thanks so much!**

**letcia- Aw you're totally fine about not reviewing the last chapter. I don't expect you to review EVERY chapter, you know? It just means so much to me to get feedback! And, yes, it's totally fine to be conflicted about Clarkson's death :) Thank you so much!**

**Tessrocks- New reviewer! Yeah, that was kinda sad. Thanks so much!**

**lilythemermaid- O, did I tell you how much I love you and your long reviews? Me? Perfect? Excuse me, I'm the loser obsessed with you. I'm so not perfect. BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH! I'm so happy I still managed to shock you. I just love plot twists *evil smile* HAHAHA girl you make it sound like a fricking perfect goddess. Your reviews make me sound wayyyy too awesome. I love it so much, though, so, uh, you don't have to stop :) Thank you! ilysm (it's not even normal anymore T_T ) LALALALALOL**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	27. Chapter 27

**"Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift feat. Ed Sheeran**

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

Down to just Maxon and me. It's just the two of us. I don't know if the competition just became harder or easier. Without the other guys here, I feel like we're just getting closer to the end of the Selection and I'd have to make more of an effort to beat Maxon. On the other hand, it's easier because that means I'm _this_ close to winning.

I can visualize it already—I, on one knee, proposing to America, and she's saying yes. Her father will give her away to me on the day of the wedding. He has already given me his blessing, so I think the only thing standing between America and me is...America, technically speaking.

Fathers...I'm so disappointed she'll never get to meet mine. And what about Maxon? He just lost his father. I think I know what he's going through, but then again, my father wasn't a hardhearted politician.

A door being slammed jars me from my thoughts. I walk out to the hall, and I hear faint and mumble words. The tone sounds almost snide and threatening.

Clancy.

The voices are coming from inside Maxon's door. I put my head against the wood, and I'm able to make some sense of what they're saying.

"I'm sorry...your father," Clancy says. He doesn't sound too sorry.

"Uh, thanks," Maxon replies. "...assuming...leaving soon?"

"Yeah, but...to say goodbye."

There's nothing for a while, and I feel like it just happened in my head until Maxon says, "Why are...really here?"

I put my ear flush against the door, and I can hear exactly what they're saying now.

"Your father just died," Clancy says. "If I were you, I'd go home and comfort my family. You know, drop out of the competition."

Maxon pauses, and I can almost imagine the consideration on his face.

"Don't you think your mother would want some consolation?" Clancy taunts. "You're basically the boss of the family now. Besides, you won't have as much of an advantage over Pine Tree anymore."

"Pine tree?"

"You know, the Leger dude."

Wow, that was low. I've been bullied by my caste, but never my name.

"Your father, a powerful politician, died," Clancy continues. "And your family's connections die with him. You think you're here because the princess likes you? Reality check, you're here because Clarkson Schreave knows people from Illéa to New Asia. Aspen's a Three now, but—"

"Get out," Maxon says, his voice low and cracked in his throat like a wrecked ship at the very bottom of an abyss.

I hear something that sounds like a scoff. "What did you say?"

"I said get out," Maxon says, louder this time, braver. "No one invited you to my room."

Clancy scoffs again, and this time is voice sounds closer to me. "Even your comebacks are pathetic."

I scramble away from the door and run to my room. Just as I'm about to shut it closed, I see a polished shoe between the door and the frame.

"Aspen, just the person I wanted to see," Clancy says, a menacing grin on his face.

"Newman, what do you want?" I face him, and he closes the door behind him.

"I just wanted to say..." He trails off like what he's about to say will be prophetic and profound. "That you won't have a shot in this competition."

I roll my eyes and look at the pictures I've taped to my closet door. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I mean, I'm being honest," Clancy says, sounding like I should be thankful. "If anything, I'm _helping _you."

I turn around. "Excuse me?"

"If you left on your own accord, at least you'd have dignity. I'm suggesting you do it now. I mean, Maxon is a _Two__. _You don't stand a chance."

I march up to Clancy and glare. I wish I could kill him just by looking at him. "You have no dignity, and your desperate attempt to make me feel lower is pathetic. You're out of the competition, or do you need to hear America announce it again?"

He smiles smugly, but his nearly imperceptible wince shows that he's cracking. I'm taller than him by several inches, and I'm doing my best to utilize my height to intimidate him.

"You can't be lower, Pine Tree," he says. "You're already a _Six_, the lowest of the lows."

"Get the hell out of my room, Newman, or I will tell America myself."

He backs up to the door, his confidence waning by a fraction. "Sure, sure, tell your little girlfriend. How does that feel, by the way? To know she'd probably pick Maxon?"

I clench my fists and my jaw. "Newman—"

"I'm out, Pine Tree. Have a nice life."

He shuts the door behind him a bit too calmly for my liking. I collapse on my bed. He's not even in the Selection anymore, and he still feels the need to threaten Maxon and me? He's so desperate to make either of us lose.

But the words he said still stay in my mind like cement. I've never felt insecure about my standing with America until Clancy shoved all of my innate flaws in my face.

I'm so exhausted. I take off my shoes and don't even bother changing out of my suit. I go to sleep as quickly as someone turned off a light.

_I have a vague sense I'm dreaming. America, Maxon, and I are present for the_ Report. _Tonight, we're both proposing to America, and she'll be picking whom she will marry. The only problem is that I don't have a ring for her. My pockets are empty, and I'm thinking, _Shit, I don't have enough money to buy a ring.

_Maxon pulls a black velvet box from the pocket of his suit, and he gets on one knee. _

_"No!" I yell, but nobody hears me. Fear runs down my skin, cold and demanding. _

_The ring has a big, sparkling diamond, and the band is made of solid gold. I'd never be able to afford anything like that. America laughs and hugs Maxon. He spins her around, his arms so tight around America that she's coughing and gasping for breath._

_I know I need to get to her, to get her out of Maxon's suffocating arms. I try running to them, but I'm tied to my chair, like Carter on the rack. _

_Maxon finally sets her down and puts the ring on her finger. But the ring is too big and heavy with that glossy diamond, and it keeps slipping off. Maxon says that he'll fix it, and he pushes it down until the ring stays put on her knuckle._

_Then the ring's band keeps getting smaller and smaller around America's delicate finger. She doesn't fight it, though, when Maxon assures her that it's normal. Soon, her entire hand is pale, and it starts to bleed from where the ring sits. _

_As the ring tightens, I feel two massive stabs in my back and on my hands and scream from the burn of it. I wait to feel the blood, too, but it doesn't come. __Instead, I watch as the blood spills from America's hand to the white marble. The red stains on the white are reminiscent of America's gleaming red hair surrounding her pale face. _

_Wave after wave of pain hit me as Maxon keeps pushing the ring further and further. America lifts her hand up to observe the ring, and her blood drips down her arm until it smothers her face entirely and drowns her. _

I snap awake to the worried face of a maid whose name is unknown to me. "Sir, are you alright?" she asks gently, almost scared.

I haven't had a nightmare like that in months, and never one about America. I wipe the sweat from my forehead, reminding myself that it isn't real. Still, the pain echoes on my skin, and I feel dizzy.

"Yeah," I manage to say to the young girl. "Sorry. It was a bad dream."

She exhales a sigh and tugs her blond hair. "Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

I sit up, and she stumbles back a bit so my head doesn't smash hers. "I'll get it," I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Sir, you need someone to accompany you at hours like these," the girl says.

I run a hand over my face. "What time is it?"

"Four in the morning, Sir."

I sigh, because I really don't need an escort, but I remember that I don't quite know where the kitchens are, so I comply. The slight girl walks a bit in front of me but still remaining by my side.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you were screaming, and I had to make sure it wasn't a rebel."

I chuckle. "If it was, I definitely would have been fine." I flex my arm and she giggles. "I can take care of myself."

The girl tilts her head, a smile ghosting her lips. "I know you're strong, but accepting help is its own kind of strength."

Her words nearly take the breath out of me. It's so thoroughly perceptive and thoughtful, and I never would have guessed I would find wisdom from a girl I don't even know.

"What's your name?" I ask, holding the door that leads to the kitchens for her.

She tucks a blond hair over her ear and mumbles a thank you. "My name's Lucy, Sir."

"Lucy," I say. "I'm Aspen."

"I know, Sir," she says, smiling a bit as she fills a glass with water. "The entire country must know who you are."

I grin. "I'm saying you should call me Aspen."

She laughs lightly and gives me the glass. "Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome, Sir," she says. I give her a pointed look, and Lucy looks at me stubbornly. "You're a Three, and I'm a Six. I don't think I should be calling you by your first name."

I sip some water. "I was a born Six. You and I are no different."

She smiles, almost shyly. "Okay, Aspen." She looks at the clock and says, "You should probably go back to your room before sunrise."

I nod, and she takes the glass and puts it in the sink. Lucy brings me back to my room, even when I know where it is. But I think of her words and let her lead me to my room.

"Thank you, Lucy," I say.

She waits until I get in my room before she says, "America talks about you, you know."

I nearly frown. "How do you know?"

"Oh, I'm one of her personal maids."

I smile. "I assume you're close to her then?"

"I've never met a girl with a kinder heart." Lucy's face reddens a bit now that she notices she's in my room and I'm awake. "Uh, I better leave." She does a little curtsy and closes the door.

I smile to myself and go back to sleep.

* * *

**Aspen. What a character. I had to write a somewhat longer Aspen chapter because I didn't really know him until I reread _The Prince. _Also, some credit goes to The Devil Wears Westwood. **

**Disclaimer: Some lines are based off the ones in _The Prince _by Kiera Cass. Sooo yeah. She's brilliant, and she needs to write a fourth book full of headcanon scenes where MaxAsperica scenes. **

**Okay, thoughts on a MaxAsperica threesome? I'm totally kidding, but also somewhat serious. Like, this is fanfic. ANYTHING can happen. I kinda want someone to make it and know that it exists, and tbh, I'm surprised someone hasn't already written it. Soooo yeah.**

**I'm so messed up. I literally just watched Shane Dawson on YouTube so that might have something to do with it.**

**Oh! Also, I start classes next Tuesday, so I'm sorry if I don't update as often anymore. **

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**PrincessIndia- Thanks for writing two reviews! I hope you don't get in trouble. And write like what? Like an obsessed fangirl? Haha thanks so much!**

**dakotamo- Aw thanks so much!**

**Blondie115- Ahhh 26! I like it when boys get along :) Thanks so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- I gave ya credit cuz I had to :P Unfortunately, Clancy has to go, but I think after Aspen's dream there would be more tension between Maxon and Aspen. Sooo yeah. Ah, Team Maxerica or Asperica? Whoooo to pick? Thank you so much!**

**agb1700- Haha every time I eat chocolate I feel fat. And I wouldn't say we're getting close. We might even be getting farther :P Idk what chapter this will end. Maybe in the 50's area? Give or take some. Thanks so much! Lurve ya!**

**eruditedemigod- Haha "whoa". Thanks so much!**

**Tessrocks- Aww thank you! I'm so glad you love this story! Thank you so much!**

**Kiren- Regarding King Clarkson, I think I want him alive for this story :) Thanks so much!**

**krriordan- Haha "yah" :P Thanks so much!**

**Maria- Thank you!**

**YourBiggestFan- I truly love your username :) It makes me smile. Idk who she chooses either! Thanks so much!**

**selectioner- Yeah, I wanted him to say yes to the ear-tug too :P Thank you so much!**

**Book addict 112- Hope you keep reading to see what will happen next :) Thanks so much!**

**TheForgottenOne- I know it was a paradox. I just needed that segue for Maxon to say "I feel like my father would know." Just an FYI that I'm not THAT stupid. Thanks!**

**fantasybookgirl- Amberly's the best. Yeah, America has a helluva decision to make. :P Thanks so much!**

**winterprincess- I can't wait for _The Queen _either! Sooo excited :D Thanks so much!**

**fanficforev- Of course you get a shout-out! If one gets a shout-out, all get a shout-out. :) Haha what does the wink wink nudge nudge mean? Do you want me to drag it out then or are you alluding to _The Selection _trilogy? :P Thank you so much!**

**Julia- New reviewer! Obsessed? Aw thank you! And I am Team Maxon, but that does not mean he will win. I love my version of Aspen, though, so I'm kinda getting a crush on him :P Thank you so much!**

**Theoneforever- I'll punch Clancy with you :P Your favorite story? Aww thank you so much! **

**lilythemermaid- Aw, bae, that's sooooo nice :3 I really do wish those fanfic authors would update *_* ilysm LALOL**

**lovewords- My amazing writing skills? Did you mean *quote, unquote* "my amazing writing skills" :P Can't wait for more Maxerica and Asperica scenes too! Thanks so much!**

**4Love4Love4- I have a gift? Aww thank you!**

**piepie1289- Hahaha Johnlock. :P That's hilarious. And, um, I wrote 6 stories with Maxon. Don't you think I deserve him more? :P Jk (not really; I would kill for that boy) Jk. Not really :P Thank you so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	28. Chapter 28

_Maxon's POV_

It has been a week since the other Elite left and Clancy's threat. But honestly, I was more angry than scared. How dare he bully me when he's already out of the competition?

I realize I've been staring at America for maybe a solid minute, with my spoon dangling from my fingertips. She smiles and tugs her ear. I haven't talked to her since my father died. She's been busy with meetings and other royal duties; maybe duties that will end up being mine. Frankly, I haven't made much effort to meet with her. I just didn't feel like seeing her when something like my father and Clancy happened.

I gulp down the entirety of my dinner and rush to my room. About three minutes later, America walks through the door, a flush creeping up her neck. She brushes imaginary dust off her satin dress.

"Hi," she says, closing the door behind her.

I don't know—maybe it's because I haven't talked to her in what seems like forever, or maybe it's the way she looks almost bashful to see me—but I encase her in my arms, loving the way she's so warm and delicate against me.

"Oh!" America gasps, but she wraps her arms around me.

"Hi," I say, kissing the top of her head.

She pulls back to look at me, smirking, but the blush on her cheeks betrays her act of trying to be cool. "Did someone miss me?"

"I did," I admit, kissing the tip of her nose. "I did miss you."

She sighs. "I'm sorry. I just didn't have enough time, what with the eliminations, meetings and all."

I smile. "I completely understand."

She returns my grin. "I feel like I haven't been here forever."

I shrug. "I added some stuff." I nod my head to the wall of my room, a fourth of it covered in a collage of pictures that I've taken before and after arriving at the palace. I brought my camera from the very beginning, but I felt like it should have been something I kept to myself, until America, that is.

America's eyes widen in what looks like astonishment and awe. "Maxon," she says, almost whispering. "It's beautiful." She walks to the wall, observing the photographs.

I shove my hands in my pockets, running a hand through my hair. Seeing her look at something I've done is like seeing a rainbow form before my very eyes.

"You like it?" I ask.

"I'm in awe of it. How many of these did you take?"

"Nearly all of them, but ones like this," I say, lifting a corner of a magazine clipping of when we had that photo shoot, "I asked for." It's the one where America's laughing at me while I stick my tongue out. I have the more professional pictures too, but this one stuck out to me. I point to another one. "I took this one in the very southern part of Honduragua. I used to think it was interesting, but now it makes me sad."

I can almost smell the black smoke and soot drifting out of the factory pipes. "I used to look at the air, but now I remember how much I hated the smell of it. And people live in that all the time. I was so self-absorbed."

I still think I am. If I end up being prince or going back home as a Two, either way I'm doing something about these factories. I'm planning to maybe make a change in the country as a politician, if not a sovereign. My father had power, but he abused it and used it for himself.

"Where is this?" she asks, pointing to the picture of a long brick wall.

"New Asia. It used to be to the north of what was the Chinese border. They called it the Great Wall. I hear it was once quite spectacular, but now it's mostly gone. It runs less than halfway through the middle of New Asia. That's how much they've expanded."

"Wow." She continues looking at each photograph.

"The one I have at home is bigger," I say. "It covers nearly the entire wall." She laughs when she sees the one from the photo shoot, and I smile alongside her. "I was really hoping you would like it."

"I do. So much. I want you to make me one."

"You do?"

"Yes. Or teach me to. I have enough pictures from magazines and newspapers, but not like these." She sees one I took from about a month ago. America's elbows are on the balcony railing, and she looks up at the sky like she's making a wish. "These are candid. They're actually...real."

I never thought of her life as being fake. She laces an arm behind my back, and I do the same to her. We stand there for a minute as she takes it all in. I wish I could show her the one at my house. It's so much larger in comparison, but this will have to do.

Suddenly, decisively, I turn to her, taking her hands in mine.

"Say it, America. Please. Tell me you love me." At the moment, I don't even care if she loves Aspen. All that matters is that I hear the actual words from her mouth.

"I can't with Aspen still here. I want to do that too, but it's too impossible. Besides, I can't send either of you home until I'm sure of both of your feelings."

"Then I can't give you what you want while I know that tomorrow you could be doing this with Aspen."

She can't argue that one. Its possibility is still too high for her to disagree.

"I can't tell you that Aspen means nothing. You both mean a lot to me."

"Who means more to you?"

* * *

_America's POV_

I hate to be arguing again, and I can sense that he feels the same way.

A devilish smirk appears on his face. He moves his lips to my ear, and suddenly I'm not capable of breathing. "I can think of a few ways to convince you," he whispers.

I swallow, both frightened and hopeful that he'll say more. His hand, low on my back, holds me to him, and my body is against his. I'm sure he can feel my heart thudding against his chest. His other hand pushes my hair off my neck. I tremble as he runs his open lips over a tiny patch of skin, his breath so very tempting.

It's as if I forget how to use my limbs. I can't hold on to him or think of how to move. Every thought scatters like molecules in thin air. But Maxon takes care of my immobility, backing me up a few steps so I'm pressed against his collection of pictures.

"I want you, America," he murmurs into my ear, his lips brushing it by a hair. "I want you to be mine alone. And I want to give you everything." His lips kiss their way across my cheek, stopping at the corner of my mouth. "I want to give you things you didn't know you wanted. I want"—he breathes into me—"so desperately to—"

A loud knock comes at the door.

The sounds jars me from Maxon's touch and words and scent. We both turn toward the door, but Maxon quickly put his lips back on mine.

"Don't move," he says slowly. "I fully intend to finish this conversation." He kisses me slowly, then pulls away.

Never has a boy made me feel so breathless and incapable of doing things I've known how to do since I was born. This is probably a bad idea, to let him kiss me into confession, because I do love him, and he probably knows it.

He opens the door, shielding me from the visitor. I run my hands through my hair. How will I ever explain this to my maids? I end up pulling the few pins out of my hair, trying to pull myself together.

"Hey, Maxon," a man's voice says.

Shit.

"Aspen," Maxon says, sounding almost winded.

"Schreave, have you been running a marathon? You sound like you—"

"Leger, I'm sorry, but now's not a good time," he says, his brows furrowing.

"Oh, I apologize."

Maxon stands there for a moment, not really knowing what to say. "Um, bye."

"Bye."

Maxon closes the door, and he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry," he says. As much as I want to continue what we were doing, it's so very clear that the mood is diffused and gone.

"I guess I should go," I say numbly. He looks disappointed, his eyes downcast. I walk to him and give him one slow kiss, trying to gather my thoughts so I wouldn't lose myself again. "Good night, Maxon."

"Good night, America."

* * *

**I apologize for not being able to reply to reviews, but I hope this satisfied the Maxerica hearts. I'm so sorry if anything's messed up; I tried my best at midnight. However, there will be some exciting news hopefully tomorrow (that is, if you're a fan of me and some other people but more on that.) Thank you so, so much for the reviews! **

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	29. Chapter 29

_Aspen's POV_

The days have been dragging on, like time refuses to progress. I don't want to hold it against America, but at the same time, I want her to make her decision. I'm almost positive she doesn't love Maxon at all. Then again, it makes me wonder why she hasn't eliminated him yet. I know I can't be so sure that she loves me, but then why is she kissing me?

"Aspen, you're distracted," she murmurs against my mouth.

I sigh, pulling back. I love feeling the curve of her hips beneath my hands. It assures me to no end that she's safe in my arms. "Sorry, Mer." I lean forward to kiss her again, but she moves her head so I end up kissing the corner of her mouth instead.

"Aspen, tell me what's wrong," she says, her cool blue eyes filled with concern.

I rest my head on the soft pillows, keeping my eyes on her. "I was just wondering about this competition, Mer. Nothing to worry about." I offer a small smile, and she allows one for herself, albeit it being apologetic.

"I know. I can't tell you how sorry I am about all of this. If the circumstances were more..." She trails off, biting her lip to find the right word.

I brush a lock of her red hair out of her eyes. "Normal?" I suggest.

She shakes her head, a faint smile gracing her lips. "No, just different. Nothing's ever normal."

I sigh. "I know what you mean." I lean on my elbow and look down at her. "So what's the next challenge for the Selection? Joust? I'm pretty sure I can take down Maxon."

She laughs, smacking my shoulder. "I really do like it when you guys are talking and getting along, you know."

I wait for her to add something more, but she just lies there, looking up at me. "So you like my getting along with Maxon, or are we really going to joust?"

Mer playfully shoves my shoulder again. "No jousting, and no one is getting hurt. The next challenge is somewhat...controversial in my book, but the country requires it so we must go on."

I frown, and I can feel her body tense. "What is it?"

She chews her lip. "Um, it's called the Convicting."

I've heard about this from Mom. The Selection members send people to jail for a crime they have done. I don't quite know what to think of it. These men are criminals. They deserve to rot in jail, right?

America must sense my slight apprehension. "Look, if you don't want to do it—"

"No, no," I say. "I'm perfectly okay with it. I will do _anything _to win this competition."

She smiles slightly, but some doubt masks her expression. "Why?" she asks, and I'm taken aback.

"What do you mean?"

She plays with the edge of my sleeve, and I don't think she notices that she's doing it. "I mean, why do you want to win? Do you...want the country or the title?"

I shake my head, smiling a bit at how silly she's being. "Oh, America," I say, kissing the tip of her nose. "If a stupid hag was the princess, I don't even think I'd be here."

She laughs, but it's not its regular rich sound. "But you'd still sign up, because of your family, right?"

I'm not sure if this is a trick question, but I'm sure it's not rhetorical. "Mer, you know I love you—"

I can hear—and feel—her suck in a breath. I didn't mean to confess it like that, but it's out in the open. "—and you should know that I am here solely for you. I'm not here to beat a rich Two, or to become the prince or king, but I'm here because _I love you_."

I wonder what's going on in that beautiful head of hers.

* * *

_America's POV_

Aspen openly said he loves me. Not anything cryptic, but out in the open and a bold "I love you." I'm almost tempted to say that I love him too, but I can't do that when I love Maxon too.

_I love Maxon._

_I love Aspen._

_What is wrong with me?_

How can I love two people at the same time? There's a saying that goes, "If you love two people at the same time, choose the second one, because if you really loved the first, then you wouldn't have fallen for the second."

How can I choose the second when both came at the same time?

Aspen takes my lack of words as a response, and he just presses his lips against mine. His breath and touch are warm, and I feel like I'm on fire. It's hard to tell who makes me feel better when both make me feel incredible.

We're interrupted by a loud knock on the door. I quickly hide under the covers while Aspen moves to casually rearrange his position.

The door opens, and the muffled voice says, "Hi, Aspen."

_Why does this keep happening to me?_

"How are you, Schreave?" Aspen says coolly. The air starts to get hot in the limited space.

"I'm okay. Did you hear about the Convicting?"

It makes me wonder who told Maxon when it wasn't me.

"Yeah, I did."

"I don't know if I want to go through with it," Maxon says, a hint of uncertainty seeping in his voice.

"Why not?" Aspen says, and his voice is on the line between annoyance and confusion.

"I don't know if I can condemn a man who has done nothing to me."

"But you have to, Maxon."

There's a sigh, then a pause. I think for a moment that Maxon has left, until something crushes my leg. I yelp, and the weight leaves.

"What was that?" Maxon asks, while I struggle to breathe yet try to hide it.

"Probably just a squeak on the bed," Aspen says nonchalantly.

"Yeah," Maxon replies, although I can tell he's not buying it. "Well, I'll leave you to whatever you were previously doing. I'll see you at dinner."

"Bye."

The door shuts, and I shove the comforter off me. "He knows," I say, gasping for the cool air. "He knows I'm here."

"I don't care," Aspen says, grinning. "The sky is blue, Maxon's trying to fight for you, and Aspen endlessly loves America. It's just the way things are."

Oh, how I wish they aren't.

* * *

**Sorry I haven't updated this sooner, and sorry this was Asperica to all of you Maxerica lovers.**

**AND OH! My collab story with lilythemermaid is up, so go check that out! It's called The Fangirls, and I/we really hope you guys love it. We have a Twitter account for the story, and it's Ballerina_Ninja. **

**Also, go check out The Fighting Four as well if you haven't already. There's also a Twitter account for that, which is FourFighting I believe. I tweet as Esther :)**

**I don't think I've ever apologized this much, but I must. I'm sorry I can't reply to reviews tonight. Will you guys stop reading/reviewing if I don't reply anymore? I honestly, genuinely want to reply to you guys, but there never is enough time. I'm sorry. **

**But thank you so, so much for every review, favorite, and follow! I mean, you guys motivate me to keep updating, so thank you guys so, so much! **

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	30. Chapter 30

_Maxon's POV_

I don't quite know if I want to go on with the Convicting. I know it's a required facet of the Selection, but I think I would have more dignity if I didn't do it mindlessly. I want to have a motive for sentencing a man to prison. I can't condemn a man who has done nothing to me personally.

I'm sure my father would oblige me to go through with it, just to win this competition. And I do want to win. I want America wholly and entirely to myself, with nothing—and nobody—in the way. But at the same time, I refuse to put someone in misery and know that I played a part in that.

I pace back in forth in my room, Gerad staring at me concernedly from my bed. He's rather astute for a child, observant and keen in ways I am not. "Are you really going to do this, Max?" he says, leaning back on his elbows. "It's just not like you."

"I know," I say, sitting down next to him, putting my head in my hands. "It's conflicting. I just don't know what to do."

"You have two options," he says decidedly. "You can either stay here, holed up in your room and let that other guy finish the task, or you can go do the Convicting with half a mind and half a heart."

I sigh, still not looking at him. "It still seems like I have no choice."

There's a pause, and I can almost hear the gears turning in Gerad's brain. "Do you love her?" he asks. It's an odd question coming from my little brother, but I answer it anyway.

"Yes."

"And will you do anything for her?"

"Absolutely."

"Then just do it, Max. These people are criminals. They deserve to be in prison. They knew the consequences. If I were you, I'd do this and forget this ever happened afterward."

I nod, twisting the gold cufflinks that America gave as a gift. We're interrupted by a loud, intrusive knock. I open the door to a stocky guard and he grunts, "Time to go, Sir."

I nod, and Gerad stands as well. He trails behind the guard and me to the Great Room until we have to split up. "Good luck, Max."

"Thanks," I manage to get out. I join Aspen outside, and his foot bounces up and down unremittingly. Apparently, he's not any calmer than I am. He's usually the epitome of ease; now, he just seems out of it.

"You okay, Leger?" I ask.

"Sending a man to jail," he says, not meeting my eyes, "is something I'd never thought I'd do."

I rub my jaw. "I think we should just be glad we're sentencing a stranger."

He nods. "Yeah, guess so."

I see an identical gold pair of cufflinks on Aspen's wrists. "I want to forget about this," I say absentmindedly, "but it's a bit hard when you have solid gold cufflinks as a souvenir."

He gives a dry laugh. "I'm giving them to my mother as soon as this is done."

I have no response.

Silvia gathers the two of us and announces that I will be going first. It does nothing to help my anxiety. If anything, it frightens me all the more.

The fanfare begins, and Aspen and I are holding olive branches to be placed at the foot of the king.

America is wearing the most stunning dress, and looking at her is my only excuse to stop thinking about the daunting task. America shoots us a smile, and I find myself smiling back. I wish she'd tell me she loves me. I don't want to confess my love first and risk being rejected.

But I know, deep in my heart, that I'd willingly have my heart broken by America.

As I take my seat, I vaguely hear some words being spoken, then finally, I see the first man walking toward us. His head is bowed low, and he's being dragged in by chains. As he draws nearer, I see faint lines peeking out of his collar, forming an obtuse angle. It's an odd tattoo, but now isn't the time to interrogate about bodily markings.

"We call into the presence of His Majesty King Shalom, Her Majesty Queen Magda, and His Royal Highness Princess America the criminal Tyson Farmer," the announcer says.

_Tyson Farmer. Tyson Farmer. Tyson Farmer. _It's like a mantra going on in my head. I just have to be so horrible with names.

"Tyson, what is your crime?" I say, surprised when my voice shows no hint of tension and apprehension.

The man raises his head and juts out his chin, trying hard to look bold but failing miserably. "Theft, good sir."

"How long is your punishment?" I'm pretty sure I messed up a word.

He swallows. "Twenty years as well as three canings every year."

I hold back my gasp. Twenty canings? I feel more sympathy for this man than any other stranger I've met. Canings and whippings are almost the same, and I can't help but feel so horrible when I know I can't do this. I sigh.

"Stand, please," I say, and confused murmurs fill the room. I take off the cufflinks from my wrists and hand them to him. Solid gold that is worth enough. He meets me by the stairs that lead up to the platform. I drop the cufflinks in his open palm. "Go, faithful subject, and pay your debt to the king."

Tyson walks up to the thrones and daringly holds out his hand, not looking afraid at all in front of the king. I try to gauge each of the royal family's expressions, but it's hard to do so; these people have been trained to wear a poker face their entire life.

The king promptly takes the cufflinks and conceals them in a fist. Tyson returns to me and shakes my hand with a bright and grateful smile. He leaves the room, while the crowd is restless and impatient. The guards do everything they can to keep them seated, and thankfully, they are calm. For now.

The next man walks toward us, his head bowed low as well. His dirty blonde hair falls past his chin, and he looks up, but Aspen's body obstructs me from seeing his face. When Aspen does leave my line of sight, I wish he'd return and block my view. I wish I was blind so I don't have to see the man's sarcastic smirk or his dark brown eyes. I wish I was deaf, too, so I don't have to hear, "We call into the presence of His Majesty King Shalom, Her Majesty Queen Magda, and His Royal Highness Princess America the criminal Kota Schreave."

* * *

_Aspen's POV_

_Kota Schreave. _Maxon's brother. I thought I would be able to do this. I was merely feigning confidence for Maxon's sake, but now, as I stand in front of his brother, looking at his horrified, fatherless family, the confidence drains out of me.

"Kota," I say, the name sounding odd on my tongue. I see Maxon stiffen at the corner of my eye. "What is your crime?"

"Sleeping with multiple women, good sir." He does not sugarcoat his crime, and gasps and cries fill the already-stunned room. Maxon dropped a bomb, and it's fuse is shortening, but it has not exploded yet.

"And how long is your sentence?" I ask.

"For life, good sir."

_For life. _It reverberates in my mind, even more so when I look at the Schreaves. Mrs. Scherave looks particularly disturbed, her sad brown eyes looking at her oldest son. Maxon's siblings aren't faring any better. May has her face behind her hands, her shoulders shaking, and the boy—Gerad, I think his name is—is gaping, like a fish out of water. I don't even want to look at Maxon. It would make this so much harder.

"You're a Schreave?" I say, thinking about how much this family has already lost. Forget their being Twos.

He nods, and I sigh. I take off my own cufflinks and walk towards him as he meets me in the middle. "Go, faithful subject, and pay your debt to the king."

It's funny how one man can light a bomb and the other detonates it.

* * *

**So that happened. **

**Hey, guys! So, uh, if you're reading this, I'm assuming you went through all the other chapters and this chapter, and really, that's a bit surprising. I kind of expected you guys to be gone by now :P But you guys are sooooo cool and sooo awesome. I love you guys to no extent.**

**Thank you also for the numerous amounts of support! "The End", "The Fangirls", and "The Fighting Four" have enough reviews to make me proud :) I can't thank you guys enough.**

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**eruditedemigod- Sorry I didn't update soon :P You're free to sentence me in the Convicting :P Thanks so much!**

**lilythemermaid- Bae, the only thing I'm talented at is burping on command. :) Oh, Aspen. Writing this story makes me kind of want to love him. The Fangirls needs to be updated pronto :P Thank you soooo much! LALALALOL- T**

**Athenachild101- Lol Maxon is da best. So, uh, I guess Aspen and Maxon both did America's part? I wonder what the consequences will be :o Thanks so much!**

**fanficforever- Haha the Asperica feels that didn't last very long? Those Asperica feels? :P I'm so glad you love my writing! It means so much to me :) And I am Maxerica because it's canon and that's my number one OTP, but I really don't know who'll win this. So far, I've been writing my chapters so that Aspen and Maxon would be equal in standings, but I don't know! Let's see where the road will take us. Thanks so much!**

**luv2read4reading- New reviewer! I think. Sooo excited for those stories btw. I mentioned it in my other story "The End" so I am fully and hyper aware of this :) Thank you!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- Awww thank you soooo much! (Never is the opposite of forever, and forever is a a long time. If you negate never and stop you'll get forever and continue or keep going. Again, do you really want to put up with me forever? :P )**

**Theoneforever- I'm so glad you liked it! Thank you so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Mm I dunno. I feel like it's Maxon, America, and Aspen and not America, Maxon, and Kriss :P Idk Kriss is a coward and that would leave to different actions and motivations. *shrugs* Thanks so much!**

**Guest- Hahaha oh America. Nah, it's probably me too, dragging this story along :) Thanks so much!**

**4Love4Love4- Glad you still liked the chapter despite the Asperica ;) Thanks so much!**

**Booklover0717- New reviewer! I think. Oh, favoritism. I do not show favoritism, but I do have a favorite :) That favorite does not necessarily mean he'll win, though. And yes, I did know about the new books! I announced it in my other story "The End" a few weeks ago I think. Oh, well. :) Thank you so much!**

**Kiren- Sorry. School's whipping my ass :P Honors Geometry and Honors literary genres particularly :) But here's an update. Thanks!**

**Maria- Johnny Depp is cool :) Hope you liked this chapter! Thanks so much!**

**Teal- new reviewer! I think. If Teal is your name, that would be sooo cool. I love the color Teal. Yeah, so I'm writing four stories now and trying to keep up with violin 30 minutes Monday-Friday and school, but whatever :) I'm so glad you love my story! Thank you so much!**

**Book addict 112- I totally forgot you're an Asperica shipper. :P Cool beans :) Thanks so much!**

**winterprincess- Hahahaha oh Aspen and his lines. America is quite the character, kissing two guys within a twenty-four hour period. I love Maxon. I would like totally throw myself at him if I met him :) Bye, America! Ah, I'm excited to see how this'll turn out :) Thanks so much!**

**lovewords- I love green eyes and blue eyes, particularly because my eyes are just reeeeally dark brown they almost look black. Sooo not that interesting :) I hope you liked this Convicting :) A Princess's Selection! I stumbled upon it once and I don't think I read it because I kinda didn't have time to read :P I'll definitely give it a read, though, when I have time! Thank you so much!**

**Guest- I hope this ends Maxerica too, but idk what will happen :) What'd you think of the Convicting? Hope you still liked it :) Thanks so much!**

**miaforevez- Hahaha I endlessly hate Aspen. That's a good one! That's great, though, that you like this Aspen :) Thanks so much!**

**Booklover0717- Hahahaha Maxon being too forceful. I gotcha. I just needed the parallelism between the real _Selection _and my story :) Hope you didn't think that any of them were too out of character. Thank you so much!**

**ilona18- Ahh the trailer! Sooo good :) Thanks so much!**

**Guest- #SoBlessed :) Thank you so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	31. Chapter 31

_America's POV_

Aspen and Maxon sit next to each other on the couch of the Men's Parlor, Dad pacing back and forth in front of them, and me sitting on a leather armchair. They look like children caught doing something wrong and their father is getting ready to scold them.

Only my dad doesn't scold them.

He stops pacing to face them. A smile faintly illuminates his eyes, but only someone who really knows him would notice it. Maxon and Aspen look like they're trying to hold it together.

"Sir, I apologize for the reckless behavior," Aspen begins.

Maxon nods in agreement. "I'm—_we're_ sorry."

Dad clasps his hands. "Gentlemen, do not worry, for there is no reason to apologize."

Confusion shows on their faces, and I try quick to mask my own. Aspen's and Maxon's eyes flicker to me, and I swallow and shrug.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come again?"

Dad looks like he's trying to suppress a laugh, and as relieved as I am, I have no idea why.

"The Convicting has always been a test for the Selection candidates," Dad starts to explain. "When my father did it, it was to see who would be placid and merciless enough to do it. He didn't think that a ruler should be merciful, that justice should always prevail. However, I think that rulers need to be kind and merciful. You two showed me that."

A test. This was all a test. Those two men could have gone to prison and this was a test.

I feel angry, furious at my father.

But then again, I've never loved him more.

"So, we're not going to be eliminated?" Aspen murmurs.

My dad looks at me. "Unless America decides to eliminate, then yes, you are not going to be eliminated."

The boys show their shock in different ways. Aspen has a little frown that crinkles the space between his eyebrows. Maxon blinks a few times while he rubs his chin.

Dad looks at the three of us. "I'll leave you three alone to discuss this," he says decidedly. He kisses the side of my head before leaving.

A few cold, empty minutes pass between us before Aspen says, "What just happened?"

I'm not quite sure myself.

Maxon barks out a laugh. "I see where you get your ingenuity from, America."

I smile strangely at him. "Dad's quite a character."

"He's utterly brilliant," Aspen consents. "A bit intimidating and mildly frightening, but brilliant."

I allow a smile. "Glad you think so. He could be your father-in-law in a matter of weeks."

At that, they look at me with inquisitive eyes. "Weeks?" they say together.

I bite my lip. "The people are pushing for the final elimination, but I'm not quite sure I want to do that." I sigh at their downcast faces. "I just need time," I say, standing, brushing down the skirts of my dress.

"I'll see you two at dinner."

Before I look away, Maxon tugs his ear. I make sure Aspen isn't looking before I tug mine back.

* * *

_Maxon's POV_

"What made you act the way you did in the Convicting, Sir Maxon?" Gavril says.

"This man stole provisions for his underprivileged family, and he was going to be punished for it," I say. "He was also going to have a total of sixty canings in his entire life. I've...seen how painful one can be." Gerad catches my eye and offers a small smile.

"Sir Aspen, what do you have to say for yourself?" Gavril asks, turning to Aspen next to me.

"This was Kota _Schreave_," he explains with a level voice. "They had already lost a family member. And I don't think I can condemn my friend's brother for life, no matter the deed he did."

"Well said, gentlemen," Gavril commends. "Now, the king has revealed that the Convicting is an examination of character. What were your reactions?"

"I thought it was brilliant," Aspen says, slightly grinning. "I admit it was terrifying and intimidating all at once, but it was still utterly brilliant."

"I agree," I say. "The princess certainly gets her ingenuity from somewhere."

"And finally, the last question that everyone's been asking," Gavril says. "Sir Aspen, did you simply imitate Sir Maxon?"

Aspen shakes his head, a bit appalled. "Absolutely not. This was his brother. To be quite frank, the deed was a bit immoral, and I would have probably sent the man to prison had it not been Maxon's brother. No offense," he quickly adds, and I shake my head.

"None taken." I see at the corner of my eye Kota glaring at me.

"Thank you for taking the time, gentlemen," Gavril says, standing. As do we, and he shakes our hands. "Good night, Illéa!"

"We're off!" a cameraman yells.

* * *

_America's POV_

I knock at Maxon's door a bit after the _Report. _

"Hey," he says, opening the door.

"Hi." I walk subconsciously to his bed, sitting on the edge. He follows me, and I find my bare shoulders covered by his suit coat.

"How are you?" he asks, leaning on his elbows.

I shrug, rearranging the suit coat so it sits correctly. "I'm alright, I guess. My dad's little twist in the game threw me off a little, but I think I've recovered."

He laughs. "He really is quite clever. I can see bits of himself in you, you know."

I smile, thinking that's the best compliment anyone could ever say to me. "Really?"

"Absolutely!" He wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me nearer, and I let him. "Your sense of humor, for one. And your tenacity. When he and I spoke during the family visits for the Easter Ball, he grilled me. It was nerve-wracking, but kind of funny at the same time. You've never just let me off the hook either.

"Of course, you have his eyes and I think his nose, too. And I can see your optimism beaming out sometimes. He gave me that impression as well."

I soak up the words, glad to know that Maxon admires my father almost as much as my mother and I do. "Maxon, would you be...happy if he was your father?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Definitely. For one, I would know he wouldn't whip me for every little mistake I did."

I wince at that, and he sighs, loosening his grip a bit. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so nonchalant about that."

"How do you deal with it?" I ask, scooting closer so I can faintly feel the tip of his nose against mine. He rubs my cheek with his thumb absentmindedly.

I can feel him take a breath. "It's just a way to cope. Mom gets plenty of rest, Gerad curses, Kenna used to escape at night, May parties, and Kota...does what he does. We're a little dysfunctional, but I still love them."

Hearing that warms my heart. "I can't guess at your feelings, America," he says. "But I don't think you have to guess at my feelings either."

"Well," I start, finding it harder and harder to breathe, "it's not like you've ever said it out loud."

I feel him take another breath and anticipate what he has to say, but nothing comes. "It's funny," he finally says, "how you can think you've said something when you never really did."

I hold my breath, feeling like the words are coming in his very next breath.

"It's also funny how you can think you've heard something when you didn't either," he says instead.

The ease seems to leave the moment like vapor. "I know what you mean," I say, swallowing. I watch his hand move from my cheek to lace his fingers through mine. "Maybe, for some people, it would be hard to confess that. Like, if they worried they might not make it to the end."

He sighs. "Or it would be hard to say if you worried that someone might not _want _to make it to the end...maybe never quite giving up on someone else."

I shake my head, the soft sheets rubbing against my cheek. "That's not..."

"Okay."

For everything we've confessed to each other, these small words are still the most frightening things to pass between us. Because once they're out there, we would never be able to take them back.

I mean, Aspen has said them, openly, pouring pieces of his heart into his words and kisses each day. I don't understand Maxon's reasons for hesitating, but i know mine. If I end up with Aspen after I've put my heart out there, I would hate myself. It would be so malevolent to give false hope, to let him know I've loved him and still choose someone else. It's a risk I'm too frightened to take.

I stare at the pools of milk chocolate of Maxon's eyes. They seem to grow more upset by the second, and frankly, it's upsetting me too.

"Can we just ignore this for a second?" I whisper uncertainly.

He nods, moving a bit closer. "I'm willing to give you time, America. I just...need to know."

"Can I just kiss you?" I say timidly, because I know in my heart, at least, I could feel like he loves me.

Fortunately, Maxon smiles, lowering his lips to mine. The familiar heat and longing fills me as his hand grips my hip. "I don't want to lose you," he says against my lips, then his own slips off mine to kiss my cheek, my neck. We move so he's on top of me, my legs still dangling over the edge of his bed. "I want to tell you," he whispers on my neck, his heavy breath making my heart beat faster. "I want to tell you how I feel, but I can't do that when you—"

"Shh," I say, using the hand buried in his hair to pull his lips to mine. "Just kiss me."

And so he does.

* * *

**Well.**

**Disclaimer: Some lines from _The One_ by Kiera Cass. I'm obviously not Kiera Cass, or _The Heir _and every single Selection thing she's working on would be out by now.**

**Oh, yeah, sorry for, like, totally neglecting this story. It hasn't seen the light of day since August. August was so last month. :P**

**So? Maxerica or Asperica? **

**Oh, thanks for reading my other stories too! You guys are the best, really. I couldn't ask for better readers and reviewers!**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**Guest- I hope this chapter gave you more perspective on why Aspen did what he did. He didn't simply copy Maxon. He did because they're fwends :) Okay, I'm cheesy. BTW I can't _make _America choose. I'm the writer, but I'm merely putting a story to words. America chooses whom she wants :) Thank you so much!**

**4Love4Love4- Ooh how Kota got discovered. You have to remind me about that. It's going to happen next chapter. I just need to remember to write it :P I'm glad you liked the chapter, though :) Thank you so much!**

**marial0789- Ah you have a fanfic account! Cool beans. :) Thanks so much!**

**Fairy not princess- I love fairy princesses btw :) I'm so glad you love the story! Thanks so much!**

**Book addict 112- Aw glad you thought it was awesome! Haha "calm yourself" :P Thanks so much!**

**fanficforev- A coma? I hope you're okay! :P And aw you're awesome too! Rock on, peace out :) Thanks so much!**

**Kiren/M.E. (Maren Elizabeth)- I love math, though, it's just whipping my ass :P I'm supposed to be doing homework but I'm not haha. Sucks. Oh, well. Thanks you!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- Yasss! "Oh, won't you, stay with me." Sam Smith is bae :P Thanks so much!**

**magicalnerd123- Yeah, people kinda got confused with the whole family switch thing ;) Thank you!**

**luv2read4reading- Oh, Kota. What a character...Thanks so much!**

**Theoneforever- I'm so glad you love this sooooo much! :D Thank you so much!**

**dudefandoms- New reviewer! I think. Maxerica is life...I'm making that a t-shirt :P And awwwww thank yooooou! I'm so glad you think so! Thank you so much!**

**The Devil Wears Westwood- Oh Kota #womanizer :P Thank you so much!**

**radflutakin- As usual? Aw thank you!**

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**HorseGalFangirl9- I'm glad you thought it was really good :) Thanks so much!**

**EruditeAbnegationMockingjay- Aw thank you so much!**

**dakotamo- Ay take it easy on Pine Tree :P I'm so glad you thought it was awesome and perfect! Thank you so much!**

**lovewords- I'm sooo so sorry for not scrounging up time to read your fanfic. I'm pretty sure I looked at it, but I forgot what happened, but I'm pretty sure I thought it was great. Sigh. I'll get back to you on that! I'm so glad you're still reading this :) Thank you so much!**

**HyperFLUFFY- New reviewer! I think. Yeah, I've been trying hard not to make anyone OOC. That's why there are some lines verbatim from _The Selection _trilogy. Oh, I also just found out you're Filipina :) Ako din! Dunno if I spelled that correctly, kasi I'm better at speaking and understanding than reading and writing, pero I get by :) Oh, and I'm Team Maxerica because Maxerica is life. Thank you so much/salamat!**

**Kcsilver7714- New reviewer! I think. Yup, still updating :) I'm glad you're into this as much as I am! Haha thank you so much!**

**Guest- Maxon! Woo! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Guest- Maxerica! Yay! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	32. Chapter 32

_Aspen's POV_

The rebel alarm slices the quiet air of the Men's Parlor like a knife. Maxon and I leave our diplomacy books behind on the couch while Silvia ushers us to the safe room. I don't think I've ever been more glad to have this woman around.

The wall panel slides shut behind us, and Silvia leads the way. Maxon nudges me. "I don't understand why we have rebel attacks."

I frown. "Now that I think about it, I don't know either."

We descend to the man-made cavern and get inside the room, where America and the queen are waiting for us. Our families left a few days ago, and I admit I'm glad they did.

America breathes a sigh of relief, rushing over to us. She embraces me first, quickly, then Maxon. "I'm so glad you guys are okay," she says, her voice fraught and a little crease forming between her eyebrows.

"Glad to see you safe too, Mer," I say, assuring her with a smile.

There's an awkward silence that ensues, and Maxon clears his throat. "Hey, can the three of us talk about something?"

America furrows her brows, as do I, but she nods and leads us to an array of cots. We all settle on different ones, Maxon to my right and America right across. Maxon leans forward with both elbows on his knees.

"Why are there rebel attacks?" he asks.

Mer purses her lips, and she hesitates. "If it's confidential," I say, "you don't have to tell us."

"No, I know that," she says, putting a stray hair behind her ear. "It's just that...I don't know why there are rebel attacks either."

There's a small silence that hangs, and she continues, "Since the beginning of my dad's reign, there have only been four, including this one and the last. I don't think it's my dad or anything, because he's a pretty great king."

"I second that," I say.

"But where is he?" Maxon says, and our heads whip to Queen Magda, who is now standing and asking guards about King Shalom's whereabouts.

Fear and terror spread all over Mer's face, and all I want to do is kiss her and embrace her and tell her everything is fine. But I can't do that for obvious reasons.

After about two hours or so, a guard tells us it's safe to go upstairs. America rushes to the main floor to find her father, and surprisingly, he's there, waiting.

"Daddy," I hear America cry as she throws her arms around his neck.

The king embraces her, and then his wife when she reaches the huddle. "I'm alright, girls," he says, comfortingly.

It almost astounds me at how informal they are. All my life before I got here I thought the royal family was a pretentious group who ruled the country with gloating authority. But the longer I stay here, the more I see them as actual human beings. And it's even more astonishing when I know that they are just a family too.

"Alright, gentlemen," Silvia says to us, quietly so as not to ruin the moment. "Time to go back to lessons."

I excuse myself to go to the restroom first, and on my way, I run into Lucy. Literally.

The tray of tea clatters to the marble floor as she slips forward, and I catch her by the waist. A blush spreads to her face, and she quickly stands up, straightening her uniform. "I'm so sorry, Sir," she says, clearly alarmed. She hurries to pick up the tray and its possessions, and I kneel down to help her.

"I'll go get napkins," I say, gesturing to the spilled tea.

Lucy's eyes widen even more. "No, no," she says, her hands fluttering around wildly as she decides what mess to handle first. "Um, just go on with your business, and I'll go alert a maid."

"It's fine, Lucy," I say, already motioning for another girl in a similar uniform to come help.

Lucy looks up at me, her wide, shocked eyes blinking. "You remember my name?"

I smile, at ease, and continue to pick up the contents that the tray has held. "Of course. You're hard to forget."

Another blush creeps on her cheeks, and the other girl reaches us. "Please grab another tray of tea for..."

"The princess," Lucy supplies.

"Yes, grab another for the princess," I say. "What's your name?" I ask the girl.

"Mary, Sir," she says, curtsying.

"No need for that, Mary," I say, and she averts her eyes. "Where is the nearest closet of cleaning supplies?"

Lucy gestures to her left without a second thought, and Mary lightly slaps her arm. "Lucy!" she scolds.

Lucy shrugs, so unlike the fumbling girl from a while ago. "He asked, so I answered his question."

I chuckle and go grab a mop. A few guards and maids pass by with mixed expressions at my helping, but I don't really care what they think of me. After I return the mop, and Mary has already left to deliver another tray for America, Lucy looks at me with a similar confusion on the staff's faces.

"Thank you," she mumbles, wringing her hands.

I smile. "It's no problem."

Lucy blinks. "Oh, but it is. The Selected aren't supposed to be helping maids clean up."

I shoot her a grin. "Well, then no one needs to know. Have a good day, Lucy."

She smiles, almost shyly. "You too, Aspen."

* * *

_America's POV_

"Mer, where the hell are you taking me?" Aspen says, carefully picking me up to put me on the other side of the uprooted tree. He's been holding off the question since I saw him walking out of the Men's Parlor and asked if he wanted to take a walk with me. He probably didn't think I'd lead him into the forest.

Finally, I point to our destination, and his mouth opens a little in awe. "There."

Nestled in the branches is a tree house, small and wooden and perfect to me. The rope ladder's still there even after all these years.

"You said once that we should have a tree house," I say as he turns to me, grinning.

"Well, ladies first," he says, gesturing to the ladder.

I roll my eyes but laugh anyway. I mentally thank my parents for allowing me to wear pants today.

When Aspen and I are situated in the tiny structure, he settles me into his lap. I giggle because the roof barely skims the tops of our heads. "How did _this _get here?" he asks, his lips brushing my cheek.

"My dad built it for me when I was younger," I say quietly, as if being too loud would ruin the tiny amount of privacy we've granted ourselves. "He always manages to find time for my mom and me, even if he is king."

He smiles, and there seems to be a question in his eyes. "What is it?" I say.

"I was just wondering about a while ago."

"I don't quite understand anything," I say, sighing. The country hides their secrets while they try to expose mine.

"Your father's a terrific king, so if they're not rebelling about him, then I don't understand it either."

I smile. "Do you like my dad?" I ask, knowing what Maxon thinks already.

Aspen nods. "Of course. Like I said numerous times before, he's a genius. The country would be in shambles without him." I smile softly, glad to know my boys already admire my father. Aspen smiles. "Thank you for taking me here."

Admittedly, I've never let anyone else in here except for Dad. But I feel as if my decision to let Aspen see this is right.

He moves to kiss my cheek, but I turn my head so his lips touch mine instead. I can feel the smile, and I smile back at him. He makes his way across my cheek to a spot right below my ear that makes me sigh.

We spend our time in the tree house until sunset, playing pointless games that Aspen lets me win anyway.

And all my worries are forgotten.

* * *

**I'll add more on America's mother in the next chapters, and also reveal how Kota was discovered.**

**Also, I really, really love how so many people reviewed "Maxerica" and I still made this chapter Asperica :P Sorry, kiddos. Next chapter possibly?**

**This story might be ending soon. And I think I know who the winner is.**

**The winner of the Selection is...**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**bita1614/ilona18- Do you know who you want to win now? :) Haha learn to log out, girl :P Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**kaylie2000- Maxerica is my OTP, but that doesn't mean Maxon will win :) Thank you!**

**marial0789- I wanna choose Maxon too, but alas, I am not the princess :) Thanks!**

**Athenachild101- Hahaha thanks for understanding that it's America's choice :) If I was America, this would have been over 30 chapters ago :P I think. I don't know if that's accurate. Oh, well. Thanks so much!**

**Kiren- I love math! Although, I'm kind of loathing geometry right now. Ugh. Triangles. Don't get me started. Wait...you're Asperica? How did I not know?! Thanks so much!**

**fanficforev- Awww this review was so sweet, and frankly, you're fricking awesome too! Thank you so much!**

**lilythemermaid- ME TOO BAE :P So uh yeah like I decided to write this instead of read _Silas Marner _-_- We should really write up a chapter for "The Fangirls." LALALOL**

**michey J- Ooh the alternative ending idea :) And awww!****! Thank you soooo much! I'm so glad you like this!**

**EruditeAbnegationMockingjay- I like America's dad too :) Thanks so much!**

**Theoneforever- Aw happy birthday! Sorry I missed it by like two weeks. Hope you had a grand birthday! And if Maxerica isn't endgame, I'll go PM you a chapter wherein Maxon and America live happily ever after ;) Thanks so much!**

**4Love4Love4- Ack I keep forgetting! It will be in the next one. I promise. (Dammit, AcademicGirl.) Thank you so much!**

**Courtney DiLaurentis- Ooh love your username btw. Team Maxerica :D Thanks so much!**

**lovewords- I'm pretty sure I read it sometime this week, I swear! I just don't remember if I reviewed...Sigh. I really need to take a course on time management -_- And OMG I'd be telling Maxon I love him too! America, can I be you please? *swoons* Thanks so much!**

**Booklover0717- Ahhh Maxon! I love. Love. Love him. He needs to be real. WHY CAN'T HE BE REAL?! Sorry about that...Thanks so much!**

**Devil Wears Westwood- One thing to say: thanksforstillreadingthis :)**

**Fairy not princess- Ahh! Sorry this update took forever! Thank you so much!**

**Olive- Maxerica! Yay! Thanks for reviewing!**

**yos . mles- Maxerica huh? Thanks for reviewing!**

**PEETAMELLARKLOVER123- That song is bae. I have a Selection playlist I listen to almost everyday :) Thanks so much!**

**radflutakin- Sorry this wasn't soon, but at least it's an update! Thanks so much!**

**miaforevez- Lol I know that weird feeling of updating from the computer :P Haha do geometry or read/write fanfiction? Ummm...clear winner there! Thanks so much!**

**winterprincess- Haha yes, you should be the official Maxerica cheerleader :P Thanks so much!**

**bubble4life- MAXERICA! :) Thanks for reviewing!**

**Guest- The guard had to do his rounds, so Maxon took his spot :) Thanks for reviewing!**

**FoxintheWoods- Asperica for life, eh? Did you like this chapter then? :P Thank you so much!**

**Guest- What does Maxon think? About what? :) (hehehe) Thanks so much!**

**dudefandoms- Dude, great username *thumbs up* :P Maxerica is life. I live off Maxerica :P Thank you so much!**

**fanfic445- Maxerica! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Guest- Oooh begging are we? Yikes, someone really wants Maxerica hahaha :P Jk. Thank you so much!**

**fantasybookgirl- "Forever and Always" is a Taylor Swift song :P It's really good :) Thanks so much!**

**Book addict 112- Asperica? So did ya like this chapter? :P Thanks so much!**

**mollyblove- I'll continue so long as there are people who read! Thanks so much!**

**rmflute- I totally understand the whole Reversed idea thing, and I did admit it wasn't my own idea to begin with. I'm just, you know, putting in my own details :) I'm glad you like my other stories. Thank you so much!**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


	33. Chapter 33

_America's POV_

The Angeles air is quiet, and for a while I lie still, listening to the sound of Maxon's breathing. I always loved it when it was just the two of us, away from the cameras and politics. We could just be us. I soak up the time, grateful that he seems to be at his best when he and I are alone.

"Do you know when the last time was that I really looked at the stars?" he asks, inhaling above my hairline.

I settle closer to him despite the warm, nearing-summer air. "No idea."

"A tutor had me studying astronomy a few years ago. If you look closely, you can tell that the stars are actually different colors."

"Wait, the last time you looked at the stars was to _study _them? What about for fun?"_  
_

He chuckles. "For fun? How about you, _Princess _America? You have time to do these things, like looking at stars, _for fun_?"

I laugh. "Stop, stop. You make me sound lazy."

"I was joking," he says, his smile touching his eyes.

I sigh. "I manage to pencil in fun between budget consultations and infrastructure committee meetings."

"Ah, I know the feeling. Father made me practice war strategizing, which, by the way, I am terrible at, as if he thought I'd be king."

He doesn't sound particularly emotional when he talks about his father. It's not quite because he's apathetic, but I think it's because he is trying to be apathetic.

I want to stray from this topic, so I ask, "What else are you terrible at?" I run my hand across his starched shirt. Encouraged by the touch, Maxon starts drawing circles on my shoulder with the hand he has wrapped behind my back.

"Why would you want to know that?" he asks in mock irritation.

"Because I still know so little about you. And you seem perfect all the time. It's nice to have proof you're not."

He props himself up on an elbow, focusing on my face. "Darling, you _know _I'm not."

The endearment makes me blush, and I look away momentarily to gather my bearings. "Pretty close," I counter. Little flickers of touch run between us.

He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. "Okay, then. I am terrible at political campaigning, so only God knows how I will survive after this." It makes me think for a split second what he would be doing after the Selection, if he doesn't win. But my reasonable thoughts fly to the moon when he continues. "And cooking. I'm rotten at it."

I giggle. "I've never cooked, so I'm guessing I'd be terrible at it."

"Ah, the chefs do so well here you wouldn't need to learn. I tried once, and I nearly set the house on fire. It's a good thing Gerad was there with a fire extinguisher. May was just staring."

I laugh again. "More," I demand. "What else are you bad at?"

He holds me closer, his brown eyes bright with a secret. "Recently, I've discovered this one thing..."

"Tell."

"It turns out I'm absolutely terrible at staying away from you. It's a very serious problem."

I smile, feeling the blush creep up my cheeks again. "Have you really tried?"

He pretends to think about it. "Well, no. And don't expect me to start. I can't deal with military statistics all day."

We laugh quietly, holding on to each other. I like how he has flaws he states. I like how he teases and jokes and contradicts me. I don't usually like being contradicted, but it's different around Maxon.

The rustle of leaves and grass announces that someone is approaching. Even though our date is completely acceptable, and even encouraged, I feel a bit embarrassed, and I sit up quickly. Maxon follows suit as a guard made his way around the hedge to us. I can sense the disappointment in his motions.

"Your Majesty," Officer Greenbough says with a bow. "Sorry to intrude, America, but your father asked me to come get you. Your mother and he have to discuss some...important matters." He catches himself at the last part after noticing Maxon is here.

I nod with a upset smile. "Alright. Thanks, Greenbough." He leaves us alone, and I turn to Maxon. "I'm so sorry."

He smiles, but it doesn't quite light up his face as it did a while ago. "It's fine, Ames."

I quirk an eyebrow as he stands and helps me up. "Ames?"

He shrugs, picking up the blanket and shaking it out, clearly not satisfied with the duration of our night. "May started calling you Ames, so I figured why not?"

I laugh at his reasoning, and we start walking back to the palace. "Hey," I say, turning to him. "I'll come see you tomorrow if I can."

He smiles. "It's fine. I just wish we weren't so busy all the time."

"I know," I say, putting an arm around his waist. He drops the blanket to wrap both his arms around me. "Don't worry. After a few weeks, this might all be over soon."

Something flashes in his eyes, and I realize that might have been the wrong thing to say. "Sorry," I mumble. "I can't seem to think straight when I'm around you."

He brings his hand to my face, brushing my cheekbone with his thumb. "I'll miss you when I go."

I shake my head, sighing. "I just need—"

"Time, I know. And I'm willing to give you that, as I've said countless times before." He sounds a bit tired, and all I want to do is tell him I love him right then and there. "Please consider what I've said before. I just...need to know."

I enjoy how he says 'need' instead of 'want.'

I smile. "I like you, Maxon. A lot. That much I can assure you."

At that, he grins, and I'm glad I can satisfy him for just a moment. He leans closer, so his nose brushes mine for a small fraction of a second before his lips do. He kisses me so gently, yet so passionately, and I can almost assure myself that he does love me.

Too soon, he pulls back. "You should go before your parents think you're dating a misfit."

I laugh silently. "I'll better go then."

But I don't. Instead, I kiss him one last, slow time before pulling out of his embrace completely. "Good night," I say quietly.

His eyes smile as he picks up the blanket. "Good night, darling."

I practically sprint to my father's office. When I get there, I'm breathless, but not because of the run.

"Dad," I say, walking in. "What is it?"

My mother is sitting in a chair a mere feet away from him, and they both look anxious. They don't say anything, and frankly, I'm a bit ticked they interrupted my date.

"Are you pregnant or getting a divorce?" I say bluntly.

Mom looks horrified, while Dad looks mildly amused. "No, America," Mom says sternly. "We just wanted to discuss the Selection."

"Oh." I sit on the corner of the desk, not bothering with formalities with my parents. "What about it?"

"Well, the people are getting a bit..."

"Eager," my dad supplies. "They want a wedding as soon as possible, which of course, entails heirs..." He looks so uncomfortable I almost laugh.

"So, honey, do you already have a notion on whom you want to choose?" Mom says.

"It's fine if you take your time too, Kitten," says Dad.

My parents contrast each other so much that I often wonder how they're married. My dad, of course, chose her among thirty-four others, but sometimes, when their personalities clash, it makes me wonder why.

The question remains in the air and in their tense eyes. "Actually, yeah," I say. "I think I know who I want."

Mom beams with pride. "America, that's so great. Who is it?"

"It's..."

Just as I'm about to tell them, my father inhales a sharp breath and falls out of his chair.

Oh, no.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or any of the lines from The Selection Series by Kiera Cass, who is slay queen, and holy shitballs, we can say SERIES now instead of TRILOGY. WTF IS LIFE?_  
_**

**I am a horrible person. Review if you agree or disagree :P**

**So, um, haha can't stop laughing at how adorable and tragic this all was. But at least I updated! Woo!**

**Oh, and so I've been reading a lot of other fanfictions and...Well, actually, that little segment/rant doesn't need to be exposed. **

**Thank you so much for the reviews/favorites/follows! You guys are the best :) **

**So I think for a general response to all of you, here is a Maxerica chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. And who's exited for _The Heir? _Or should I say heirs? AHHHHHH I saw the snapchat for it at school and basically it went like this:_  
_**

**Me: Hey, Peyton, I don't have snapchat, but you know how obsessed I am with _The Selection _so can you like, you know?**

**Peyton: Yeah, sure.**

***at lunch***

**Peyton: They updated a story.**

**Me: HOLY FUCK NO WAY SHOW ME I DON'T CARE HOW LONG THE LINE IS**

**Peyton shows me.**

**I scream. I eat my lunch. While screaming. **

**It was a great day :) **

**SO! There was that. **

**How have your weeks been?**

**Love ya!- AcademicGirl**


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